


Running Amok

by LADY_SCHNAPPS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21580654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LADY_SCHNAPPS/pseuds/LADY_SCHNAPPS
Summary: Where Harry, Ron, and Hermione return to Hogwarts to complete their 7th year, after the defeat of Voldemort. Jealousy and pining abounds - and emotions run amok.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1) These characters were created by the lovely and brilliant J.K. Rowling - not me.
> 
> 2) This is my hodgepodge world of Harry Potter where some things are true to the books, and some are not.  
> -Voldemort is dead and gone  
> -Ron and Hermione have never had romantic feelings toward one another  
> -Everyone in Harry’s year that survived the battle of Hogwarts has returned for one more year
> 
> 3) I’ve been reading fanfiction for over 10 years, but this is the first time I’ve ever written one...Cheers!

** CHAPTER ONE **

Harry could hear the crowd screaming even over the roaring wind in his ears; saw Ginny score another goal against the Slytherin keeper, but the announcer’s eyes were all on him and the additional 10 points went unnoticed. A bludger skimmed his right heel by a hair’s breadth, but it didn’t matter. His index finger was brushing the snitch. He could already predict the ball’s last ditch effort at escape, angling his broom down and accelerating as it tried to dive. Malfoy was directly below him, wilding snatching upward and bumping him to the side. But he suddenly pulled up, grinning, shaking his fist. The air was rent by a booming voice shrieking, “GRYFFINDOR TAKES IT! WINS BY 230-70!” The reds, blues, and yellows in the stands were clapping, jumping, and flashing satisfied smirks in the direction of the Slytherins.Mcgonagall’s hat had fallen to the ground due to her over-enthusiastic clapping. Hagrid had tried an animated leap and accidentally crushed a dustbin. Harry landed on the field and was immediately pummeled by congratulatory punches from his teammates. Ginny flashed him a grin and opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Ron clapping him on the back and pointing at Malfoy. The bludger that had skimmed his foot had apparently rammed into Malfoy’s nether-regions. He was doubled up on the field, cradling his groin and waving away the efforts of people trying to help. 

“No better ending for a match. We cream Slytherin, and now Malfoy won’t be able toprocreate,” said Ron. They casually walked back to the locker room, laughing and high-giving students along the way. 

Hermione was waiting outside when they emerged, beaming and rosy-cheeked from the crisp November wind. She threw her arms around Ron in a brief hug, then launched herself onto Harry and breathed “Well done! Officially a perfect record against the Slytherins; you should have seen Pansy Parkinson’s fit!” 

The three of them walked back to the common room, speculating about the party waiting for them. 

“I hope someone’s nicked some pumpkin juice and rhubarb crumble from the kitchens,” groaned Ron, massaging his stomach. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, and to her credit didn’t mention S.P.E.W. at all. Harry sighed contentedly and reflected on how different 7th year was from the rest. It still felt surreal, that Voldemort was gone. The loss of friends (like Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Sirius, and so many more) still left a gaping hole in Harry - a hole that knawed at his stomach and left him breathless when he dwelled on it. There were moments when their absence would come out of nowhere and hit him like a brick wall.   
  
Like three weeks ago when they had been studying Frutex Vehementi in Herbology, which grows to be a medium-sized shrub that tries to trip up passersby with its vines and slender branches. Professor Sprout had mentioned that the species of plant was, in fact, related to the Whomping Willow, and Harry’s mind immediately jumped to a memory of Sirius as a large black dog, dragging Ron by the foot down a hole and leading to the discovery that his godfather was innocent. He’d had to swallow several lumps in his throat before Hermione, somehow guessing his thoughts, gave his hand a squeeze. The shrub then proceeded to slap the backs of Neville’s thighs every time he turned around or bent to take notes, which replaced the frown on Harry’s face with a slight smile as everyone giggled. The memories were still as painful as ever, but as time went on he found that they weren’t triggered quite as often. 

Hermione had been brilliant throughout all of it; always there to listen and offer sound advise. Never discrediting the sorrow he felt and never exasperated that he hadn’t moved past it. She always came up with simple, little things that made him feel better, whether it was a hug, a walk, or just letting him talk about his feelings, which always seemed awkward and scattered when voiced out loud. What really lifted him up was when she voiced her feelings and struggles too; he knew he wasn’t going at it alone. 

Ron was still his best friend, but he’d been a little more distant lately. Spending time alone walking the grounds, writing lots of letters to Mr. Weasley and George, staying at Quidditch practice far later than the rest of the team. Harry understood; he needed time to process and grieve. He felt Fred’s loss even more than Harry did. 

Harry was brought back to reality when he heard Hermione give the password to the Fat Lady (“Flobberworm”). He heard Ron say, “And I can’t wait for next weekend to stock up on Honeydukes’ new line of-,”...but the rest was drowned out by their fellow Gryffindors pulling them in by the front of their robes, yelling congratulations and reliving the match with dramatic play-by-plays. 

Dean had erected an enormous caricature of Malfoy getting hit in the crotch by a bludger...over and over and over again. It looked like he had combined 4 bedsheets to make it, and it took up an entire wall. Harry ate his way through several biscuits, some multicolored toffee that changed flavor with every bite, and some frothing, bottled sweet drink that tasted like chocolate covered cherries labeled “Wizard’s Brew”. He spotted Hermione sitting by the fire with Parvati, both engrossed in a magazine and pointing things out on the page. As he walked toward her she laughed and he watched as her eyes lit up and she shook her head smiling. Hermione had changed since the end of the war, become a lot more laid back. She laughed more, didn’t care so much about rules, and while she was still the top student in the school, she didn’t obsess over studying like before. He had pointed it out to her and she had shrugged, saying, “We just spent the last year breaking our necks to defeat Voldemort. We lost so many people. For a minute I thought I’d lost you. I still love school and learning and classes, but friendships are more important.” 

Even Hermione’s appearance had changed. Her bushy mane had been replaced by soft, sleek curls. Her smile was even brighter than normal after letting her father whiten her teeth over the summer. And she was wearing makeup. She’d admitted that it started as a way to appease Parvati, who was extremely down and lonely after the loss of Lavender Brown. But as time went on she’d enjoyed experimenting with it and decided to keep it up. He reddened slightly as he thought about how her clothes were more form fitting as well, which had also started with suggestions from Parvati. And Harry wasn’t the only one to notice. He regularly saw other guys heads turning in the corridors. 

Harry was a few feet away from Hermione’s armchair when Ginny suddenly grabbed his hand and breathed into his ear, “Can we talk?” 

“Er, yeah ok.” 

Ginny stepped back slightly and to the left, but still very much within earshot of Hermione and Parvati. Harry stepped over, feeling uncomfortable at the thought. 

“Harry, it’s been months since we really talked about us. I miss you. What’s going on?” Ginny said gently. 

“Yeah, I’m really sorry Ginny,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. “There’s been a lot on my mind, you know. And getting back into the swing of things here.” 

“Of course, Harry. We’ve all been going through a lot. I understand.” She sounded concerned and sympathetic, staring and imploring him to say more. 

“Look, why don’t we talk about it next weekend, in Hogsmeade?” Harry suggested. He needed to prepare himself better for this conversation. And he definitely didn’t want to have it in the middle of the common room. He chanced a glance at Hermione; she was staring in the opposite direction, but sitting very still and had an odd look on her face. He turned his face back to Ginny to see that she was smiling. 

“That sounds good!” she said, quickly reaching up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “A whole day of you to myself.” She winked in his direction and then walked back into the crowd. 

When he turned around, Hermione and Parvati had disappeared. Disappointed, Harry decided to call it a night and walked up to his four poster. 

Ginny had been trying to talk about their relationship for weeks now. Truth be told, they weren’t in a relationship at all; hadn’t been since Dumbledore’s funeral over a year ago. He knew she had expected them to get back together after the war, that she was hurt by his avoidance. But so much had changed with the war. Honestly, he didn’t know how to tell her that they were done for good; how guilty he felt that she had waited so long for him, with such high expectations, how he thought he was falling for someone else...

His last thought was that he needed to talk to Hermione about it. She was the best with words. She would know how to handle it gracefully. 

But Hermione wasn’t at the Gryffindor table when Harry and Ron made it down for breakfast the next day.

“You know her, probably in the library,” Ron said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed bacon, tomatoes, and toast. “Want to go and visit Hagrid today? We haven’t been down in a while.” 

“I’d like to, but we’ve got a mountain of homework to do,” Harry groaned. He anxiously thought about Transfiguration on Tuesday, when he needed to be able to conjure a small flock of birds. In Charms, they would each have to conjure a small, contained fire using Incendio, and then extinguish it with Aguamenti within the allotted time frame, and without damaging anything in the classroom. They were also supposed to be reading 4 chapters on Wound-Cleaning potions before they attempted to make one in class on Friday, as well as practicing the Disillusionment Charm for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ron winced at the mention of all these and nodded regretfully that they should start right after breakfast. 

They spent the entire day in an empty room in the North tower practicing. There were a few moments of panic when Ron had performed Incendio correctly, except that his fire was much larger than intended and he couldn’t perform Aguamenti under pressure. In the end, Harry had managed to extinguish it just in time. They headed down to dinner at this point, the hem of Ron’s robe singed and slightly shorter on one side. Hermione made a brief appearance at dinner, commenting on more work in the library and preparation for N.E.W.T.s. Harry noticed that she didn’t once look at him directly before dashing off to the library again. 

The next week was so busy with studying and Quidditch practice that Harry had completely forgotten about the Hogsmeade visit with Ginny until Friday morning. She caught him getting up from the table at breakfast, squeezing his hand and saying, “Can’t wait for tomorrow,” while hurrying to her fist class. Hermione coughed and joined a group of Ravenclaws exiting the Great Hall, heading towards the library for their free period. 

Ron, who had watched the exchange, stated, “You’re spending the day with Ginny tomorrow? Now who am I supposed to hang out with?” 

“We’re just meeting up to talk,” Harry mumbled. “I wasn’t planning on spending the whole day with her. Besides, you’ve got Hermione.”

“No I haven’t, she’s going out with Terry Boot.” 

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut and dumped a bucket of freezing water on his head simultaneously. So intense was the feeling that he actually looked around to see if a Hogwarts ghost had drifted through him accidentally. Seeing none, he stammered, “W-what? Hermione’s going on a-on a date?” 

“Weird, right?” laughed Ron. “I was surprised when she mentioned it last night. Said he asked her out of the blue, in the library the other day.” 

The icy feeling had disappeared, but now his ears felt oddly warm and buzzing. He started walking again, wondering why Hermione hadn’t mentioned it to him. Wondering why she had barely talked to him at all this week. His mind kept bringing up images of her walking hand-in-hand with Terry Boot, laughing and wandering throughout Hogsmeade together. 

He heard Ron say, “Maybe I should find a date for myself, since you two have sold out. Wouldn’t mind spending some time with Emma Slate; Ginny said she was single...” but he soundly oddly far away. Harry grunted in response. 

Was that what Hermione had been doing in the library all week? Studying with Terry? She had seemed irritated with Harry for days. Had he done something to upset her? His brain replayed Ron’s voice saying “She’s going out with Terry Boot” so many times he lost count. When Hermione met up with them again outside the potions classroom, he couldn’t stop glancing at her. She had clearly noticed the frequency of his stares, because halfway through class she looked up and stared back, giving him a quizzical look. He glanced down abruptly, realizing his potion was gray instead of pale yellow; he spent the rest of the lesson feverishly trying to correct it. In the end, the best he could achieve was a light tan. He bottled it and handed it in with the rest of the class. 

Later that evening, sitting at the dinner table across from Hermione (Ron had eaten quickly and left to write a letter home), Harry couldn’t take it anymore. Tentatively he asked, “Hermione, are you really going out with Terry Boot tomorrow?” 

She went slightly pink, glancing at the Ravenclaw table and shifting in her seat before she said, “Well, yes. He asked me the other day. Why do you ask?” 

“I just didn’t know you guys talked.” 

“We haven’t really. Not that much. But he’s always been nice, and there was no reason to say no.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but then Ginny, Neville, and Parvati walked up and sat down with them. Hermione gave a small smile and got up to leave, saying, “I think I’m going to turn in early tonight. See you all later.” Harry was left pushing his potatoes around his plate aimlessly while Neville talked about Professor Sprout letting him prune the Frutex Vehementi, and Parvati was gushing about a new line of dress robes she wanted to peruse in Gladrags Wizardwear tomorrow. 

Harry went up to bed shortly after, pummeling his pillow into place and turning fitfully until he finally fell asleep. He dreamed that they were in Hogsmeade; Ginny’s hand seemed to be permanently glued to his. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake her off. And then Hermione was there, boasting that Terry had bought her one of everything from every shop in Hogsmeade. She had a mountain of shopping bags behind her, and a beaming Terry reaching for her hand...

He awoke suddenly to a loud snore from Neville, followed by him muttering, “No no Hagrid. I can’t adopt a fire-breathing niffler. My gran would kill me!” in his sleep. A few feeble streaks of pale light were just starting to shine through the window. Harry got up and dressed slowly, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach and the dread he was feeling at the thought of today. 


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Breakfast was a quick affair that morning. Harry managed to swallow some buttered toast, then opted to walk out on the grounds until it was time to depart. He didn’t care to run into Hermione or Ginny just yet. The sun was shining brightly, showcasing the grounds in a golden light on what promised to be a clear day. Warmth was radiating down in addition to a pleasant coolness. Hagrid spotted him and walked over with his giant strides, covering the distance far quicker than a normal man would. He was on his way to breakfast, but asked Harry to join him in The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer later in the afternoon. Harry promised him he would. 

Harry tried to plan out his conversation with Ginny in his head, wishing he knew how she’d react. He wasn’t good at letting people down. He had a feeling that even if he told her directly and firmly how he felt, Ginny would try to persuade him to reconsider. She had a good heart, but she wasn’t good at handling rejection. Harry had distanced himself from her since Voldemort’s defeat; had intentionally avoided the Weasley’s home and shied away from events if she was present. Some people might think those tactics heartless. But Harry didn’t want to give her any reason for false hope - in her case, even a smile sent her way seemed equivalent to a proposal. She hadn’t taken the hint - and Harry was starting to think that her refusal to take no for an answer was a little manipulative. 

She was always saying things like “I’ll just give you more time to think about it.” Or, “It wouldn’t be fair to ourselves to just call it quits. This is something worth fighting for.” She just wouldn’t let it die. She was stretching it out, making things more awkward and confusing. It was like being a dog on a leash; every time it seemed likeshe was letting up the slack, she’d suddenly yank back with full force. Harry wasn’t one to show his teeth, but he had a feeling he might have to for her to take him seriously. 

Eventually he noticed the doors to the entrance hall open wide, and decided the other students must be ready to begin the trek to Hogsmeade. As soon as he reached the large group of students, Ginny jogged over and exclaimed, “There you are! I was worried you’d overslept!” while she waved goodbye to her friends. 

Ginny hooked her arm through his and started leading him toward the stone steps when he saw her. Hermione was standing there with a nervous smile aimed at Terry, and she looked absolutely beautiful. She was wearing a slightly oversized, chunky knit sweater the color of a deep red wine, paired with form-fitting jeans. Her boots were a rich leatherand heeled, giving her a slight boost in height. Her hair held its usual intricate curls, but was pulled back into an elegant high ponytail, with a few stray strands framing her face. The lipstick she had chosen was the same deep red as her sweater. His mouth went slightly dry and his heart thundered in his chest. He noticed that even Malfoy was staring open-mouthed at her, which led to Pansy Parkinson pinching his arm and pulling him around by the ear. Ginny coughed loudly at his side, but Harry’s trance wasbroken only when Hermione turned and walked down the steps. 

Ginny was talking about a letter she’d received from Charlie that morning; apparently he was planning to spend the Christmas holiday at the Burrow, and for the first time ever, he was bringing a girl. Ginny claimed that Mrs. Weasley was already dreaming of grandchildren, and had prepared a long speech to convince Charlie to move back to the area. She also hinted, no less than four times in a single conversation, that Harry should spend his holiday at the Burrow as well. Harry tried to smile and give short answers here and there, but his eyes kept going to the back of Hermione’s head, watching as she talked with her hands and Terry nodded his head. 

What could they be talking about? Did shehave to look that irresistible for  Terry ? Was Terry ever going to stop sneaking glances at her backside, or staring at her neck like he wanted to attack it? Did Hermione  want Terry to do those things? 

Once they reached Hosmeade, Harry watched Hermione and Terry walk in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Glaring at the thought of the privacy they would have in that particular location, and with half a mind to lead Ginny that way too, he took a step toward them when Ginny grabbed his sleeve and said, “I need to get some Christmas presents at Honeydukes,” and pulled him toward the shop. Once inside, Harry was relieved to see Ron and walked over to him while Ginny consulted a list she had pulled out of her bag. 

He was surprised to see that Ron was accompanied by a petite, curly-haired blonde. Harry concluded it must be Emma Slate, a 6th year Ravenclaw. Ron whispered that the date was going well; he admitted it had started out with him boring her silly with Chudley Cannon statistics, but that conversation had been going smoothly since he’d abandoned the topic of Quidditch. Apparently Emma and Ginny were close friends, and Emma had been angling for a date with Ron for a while; Ron looked a little befuddled at the thought, but also pleased. Harry gave him a thumbs up and turned back to Ginny. He himself stocked up on chocolate frogs, treacle fudge, and fizzing whizzbees; he also spotted some chocolate truffles with chocolate mint filling that he’d never seen before. Remembering that Hermione had an affinity for mint, he bought a few to give her. 

When they exited the shop, Ginny stopped him and said, “Harry, are you alright? You seem a little out of it.” 

He looked at her apologetically and said, “Maybe a little bit. I’ve had a lot on my mind.” Sighing, he added, “Want to go sit down somewhere?” Ginny nodded and they settled on The Three Broomsticks. After obtaining drinks they sat in silence, sipping their butterbeers for a few minutes before they both looked up and said “Look-“ at the exact same time. They both chuckled and Harry said, “You first.” Ginny took a deep breath and said, “I know things have been weird lately. We’ve all had to grieve, and then figure out how to keep on living in all the aftermath. But I think things are finally getting back to normal again, right? And I miss what we had. Do you think we can ever get back to that?” 

She waited with bated breath until Harry finally said, “I don’t know Ginny. So much has happened. I feel like a different person. We’re all a little different. I just don’t think-,” but was interrupted by Ginny saying, “I’m just asking for another chance, Harry. Don’t we owe it to ourselves to at least try?” 

Before he could answer, Ron and Emma entered the pub and walked over to their table to sit. Ginny gave him a meaningful look that said they would continue the conversation later. Emma pulled out an advertisement and was showing Ginny a line of color-changing cosmetics, when Ron mentioned there was a huge display of Zonko’s fireworks Harry had to see. Glancing over at Ginny he saw her circling something on the paper, and then turn to call another 6th year girl to come have a look. Ron side-eyed him and muttered, “We’ll be quick,” out of the corner of his mouth, nodding toward the door. 

Upon stepping outside, Harry breathed freely for the first time since their arrival into the village. His plan had been to be direct with Ginny from the very beginning; to tell her he was sorry, but had no interest in dating her again. He was finding that the follow through was harder than expected. He almost wished Ginny would say something offensive or do something ugly to make this whole process easier. She was still a nice and lovely person; the thought of simply telling her no made him cringe, especially when she was just asking for a chance. 

They had reached the window display at Zonko’s. Harry gawked at the huge display of fireworks that boasted a myriad of explosions and effects. From reading the descriptions he learned that one of them created a very realistic imitation of an earthquake; another resembled a storm of shooting stars that lasted for thirty minutes or more. Harry remembered the fireworks he’d glimpsed as a kid - short little cylinders you sat on the ground and lit. Some of these looked like pillars, taller and wider than he was. The price listed by the display was also worth ogling at. Ron whistled and said, “George has got some competition with these. Wonder if he’s seen them yet?” 

“Yeah, he hasn’t developed anything quite on this scale. Wonder who developed them?” Harry said, with awe in his voice. 

“Would be brilliant to buy a set and fire them off after our N.E.W.T.s,” Ron said dreamily. 

Harry smiled. “That would be a proper send off. But I think even Lucius Malfoy would blanch at that price.” 

As if saying the name Malfoy had materialized him there, Draco was suddenly sauntering down the road toward them. And just behind him, Hermione and Terry. 

Pansy Parkinson was with him, with Crabbe and Goyle trailing as always. Since the start of term Malfoy had largely avoided Harry. There would always be a general dislike between them, but Draco was more subdued now. It probably had to do with the fact that his father was serving a sentence in Azkaban again, and the family was still shell-shocked from their fall from grace, both with Voldemort toward the end of his life, and now the wizarding community at large. But if Draco was weary of picking fights with Harry, Pansy was not. She seemed to be taking the Malfoy’s disgrace harder than they did themselves. 

“Hey Potter,” Pansy snarled as she deliberately rammed her shoulder into his. “Trying to think of a way to win the Mudblood back? Going to make a big show of it?” she said with a glance toward the window display. 

Ron scoffed and said, “Shove it, Parkinson. You’re mental. Of course...you’d have to be to have a ferret fetish,” with his head tilted toward Malfoy. Harry glanced at Hermione and Terry; they were only a few get away. Surely they had heard. Hermione’s lips were pursed into a tight line and Terry was openly frowning at Harry. Hermione looked on the verge of greeting them, but Terry carefully steered her towards Madam Puddifoot’s, looking back at Harry with reproach. “Why on earth do they want to go in there?” grumbled Harry. “That place is revolting.”

Ron shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know mate, loads of people go there for dates. It’s romantic and whatnot.” With that, they headed back to The Three Broomsticks. They hadn’t been back at their table for long when Hagrid showed up, bought himself a drink, and sat with them chatting for a while. Once Hagrid rose from the table, Harry and the others decided to make their way back to Hogwarts. 

Ron lagged behind in the entrance hall to say goodbye to Emma while Harry and Ginny continued up toward Gryffindor tower. He was just starting to feel slightly awkward from the silence when Ron caught up with them, grinning. “She’s agreed to another date,” he said. Ginny smiled and replied, “See, I knew you’d hit it off.” But she looked slightly annoyed that Ron hadn’t stayed behind a little longer. 

Once they reached the common room Harry and Ron retrieved some homework and sat in front of the fire, catching up on reading and nibbling at the candy they’d bought. Ginny looked slightly crestfallen once she realized she wouldn’t be getting another private moment with Harry anytime soon. She wished them goodnight and said they’d talk tomorrow. 

About two hours later Hermione and Parvati entered through the portrait hole. Parvati was smiling, giving Hermione a knowing look and he could just hear her say, “So he asked you out on a second date?” Hermione nodded but he couldn’t make out her response. His ears felt warm and pressurized again. How long was Hermione going to indulge this guy? Surely she could see he was a prat, he thought angrily. What was the point in going on another date? 

Hermione spotted them and walked over, took the nearest armchair and said, “What’s up? How was your day in Hogsmeade?” Harry stared, trying to ignore how pretty she looked in her outfit and trying to squash the impulse to reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Angry at his own reaction, and angry at Hermione for seemingly having a good time with Terry, he aggressively asked, “How was your date?” at the same time that Ron had said, “It was good.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow and said, “It was nice,” in a matter-of-fact voice. “We talked quite a bit.” 

“Yeah?” Harry said, with an unmistakable trace of acid in his tone. “But he didn’t want to talk to us, did he? He’d rather cozy up in Madam Puddifoot’s and snog over a cup of sweet tea.” 

Hermione’s eyes widened and she spluttered, “E-Excuse me? Who said anything about snogging?! Terry was nothing but polite!” 

“He’s a git, Hermione! He’s a pompous snob who already acts like he owns you! And he’s been throwing me one dirty look after another!” Harry fumed. 

“Says you!” Hermione fired back. “He’s always been nice, you’ve just never gotten to know him! He was in the DA with us!” 

“Just because he was in the DA doesn’t mean he’s a first-rate person. I was never that fond of him, even then.”

Hermione scoffed. “Oh what rubbish,” she said. And after a stomp of her foot, “You are being absolutely ridiculous. Goodnight!” She made for the girls’ dormitory and Harry heard the slam of her door from his chair down in the common room. 

Harry looked around at Ron, who’s eyebrows were practically in his hairline and eyes were wide with shock. “I’ve never seen you go at Hermione like that,” he said. “I’ve never thought Terry was a bad bloke. What’s he done to you, mate?” 

Harry muttered furiously under his breath while snatching up his book and papers. He ignored Ron’s question, muttered goodnight, and made his way to the boys’ dormitory. 

Hours later, Harry still lay awake staring at the ceiling. One by one, he’d listened to his other suite-mates’ respirations turn to slow, sleep-induced breaths and snores. Harry tortured himself wondering what Hermione and Terry had talked about. Wondering if he had touched her at all. And then his mind led him to images of himself holding Hermione’s hand. He realized he wouldn’t mind going into Madam Puddifoot’s again if  he got to snog Hermione in seclusion. At that thought, he groaned and pushed his hands over his eyes. Willing his body to not react to that mental image, he rolled over and tried to wipe his mind of all thought, like he used to practice with Snape in his Occlumency lessons.   


His last thought before he finally succeeded was that next to Hermione, he hadn’t noticed a single thing about Ginny’s outfit or appearance in the 6 hours he’d spent with her. 


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

When Harry awoke the next morning it took him a minute to figure out why he felt like he’d swallowed a bucket of squirming eels. Then he recalled his row with Hermione in the common room. The memory made him angry all over again, but also extremely guilty. Ron had been right - Harry had never talked to Hermione like that before. Ron was usually the target of her huffy silences, side-eyed glares, and short remarks. Harry wasn’t sure if she would treat him the same, or perhaps ignore him completely. Resigning himself to what would likely be an uncomfortable day, he walked down to the Great Hall. 

He ought to apologize to Hermione as soon as he saw her, he thought to himself. But what he’d said was true, and he’d be damned if he was going to sit and sing Terry praises. Of course, if Harry was honest with himself he’d have to admit he’d never disliked Terry before now. He’d seemed all right in fifth year during D.A. meetings. He’d believed Harry about Voldemort when the majority of others hadn’t. But these days he only had frowns to spare when he looked Harry’s way, and he always tried to usher Hermione away as soon as he saw her. You’d think, with Harry and Ron being her best friends, Terry would try to befriend them. Include them.  _ Something _ other than throwing dirty looks. 

The most disconcerting part was that Terry seemed to be succeeding in driving a wedge between Hermione and Harry. There was a distance between them he hadn’t felt since third year when Hermione had told McGonagall about him receiving a Firebolt anonymously. 

Being early Sunday morning, Harry wasn’t surprised that only a handful of people had made it down to breakfast before him. He  was surprised to see that Ginny was one of them. He walked toward her, deciding it would be rude to sit away from her, and then realized she had probably planned this to get time alone with him. He said, “Good morning,” while taking the seat opposite her and reached for the bacon and eggs. She watched him eat for a minute before cutting right to the chase. 

“So have you thought about what I said yesterday?” 

Truthfully, he’d thought about it a great deal. He’d made himself admit that he was falling in love with Hermione. There was no getting around it; she was the only one he wanted to be around when given the choice with a room full of people. The thought of her with another guy was driving him mad. He missed and craved her company and her touch - it had only been a week that things had been strained between them, and he already felt slightly lost without her presence. 

He also knew that he didn’t feel any of these things when it came to Ginny; she could walk down the corridor and snog every bloke she laid eyes on, and Harry wouldn’t feel the monster in his chest or the pressure in his ears that was elicited when Hermione simply  _ smiled _ at Terry Boot. Therefore, it seemed wrong to keep things going with Ginny. But then his most bitter thought kept presenting itself: Hermione obviously didn’t have feelings for him if she was dating around. He’d maintained hope that she was starting to feel the same; after all, they’d been nearly inseparable for over a year now. They’d become closer when he didn’t even know that was possible. He could have sworn he’d seen her giving him the same shy glances and the subtle, prolonged physical contact he’d been giving her. But those hopes had all gone out the window yesterday. Harry must have been fooling himself -trying to read between the lines when there was nothing there, he thought bitterly.

If Hermione didn’t have feelings for him now, she never would. So what was the point in keeping himself single? To go mad with loneliness while he watched someone else sweep her off her feet? He groaned inwardly for the thousandth time this morning. He didn’t want to deal with Ginny crying and furious with him too. 

Staring at his eggs, Harry thought back to his relationship with Ginny - the walks on the grounds and kissing in corridors. Ginny was pretty, fiery, funny, and smart. He had been happy back then, right? But even then, she hadn’t quite felt like... _ home _ . From the very beginning, somehow, he’d known that it wouldn’t last, and he hadn’t been terribly upset by that fact. 

He’d trusted Ginny back then, but he’d still had to keep secrets from her. Hadn’t been able to completely open up. Hermione was the one woman he was completely comfortable with. No one knew him better than her. Hermione had seen him at his worst, and stuck by him at a time when even Ron had left. 

All these thoughts running amok in his head, he looked at Ginny and not-so-smoothly said, “I uh - If we could just start out as friends, you know. I guess we could, maybe - er - see how it goes,” he finished, clearing his throat. 

This seemed to be an acceptable answer. Ginny beamed and said, “Oh Harry!” She looked like she wanted to gush some more but stopped herself to say, “Yes, take things slow. That sounds perfect,” in a business-like tone, but with a large grin plastered on her face. “I’ll see you in the common room later?” she asked after glancing at her watch. After Harry nodded she stood up, leaned across the table, and kissed his cheek. It was when he tilted his face to receive the kiss that he noticed Ron and Hermione enter the room. Hermione’s face blanched at the sight of Ginny pulling away from him, then her eyes narrowed and she sat at the very end of the table. Ron, looking between his two best friends, sat down with Hermione wearing an apologetic grimace. 

Harry quickly ate the rest of his food then walked down to sit next to Ron. He chanced a glance at Hermione, who was determinately reading a very large book titled  _How to Pass Your N.E.W.T.sWithout Shedding a Tear_ . She had bags under her eyes, and he suspected she had been crying because her eyes looked slightly puffy, despite the makeup she’d used to hide it. Harry felt a powerful twinge of guilt and cleared his throat. 

“Want to go and visit Hagrid today?” asked Harry. 

“After breakfast, yeah? So we still have time to write Flitwick’s essay afterward?” said Ron. 

When Hermione realized both Harry and Ron were looking to her for a response, she cleared her throat and said, “Yes, that sounds fine,” without looking up. 

Thirty minutes later the three of them were walking down to Hagrid’s hut, walking on the springy grass and holding their robes as they were whipped about fiercely by the wind. The sky was full of rolling, steel gray clouds that threatened rain. Harry thought idly that yesterday had probably been the last nice day they’d have for a while. The air was getting nippy, promising snow in the coming weeks. 

“Well hello, you three!” Hagrid exclaimed when he opened the door and beckoned them inside - getting over the threshold took several attempts due to Fang’s determined jumps and licks. Hagrid offered them a tin of biscuits he’d bought in Hogsmeade the day before, and seeing as how Hagrid hadn’t cooked them himself, they each ate several. 

Hagrid filled them in on a few new creatures (thankfully, all of them legal) that he had procured for his Care of Magical Creatures classes. “An’ I also been petitionin’ Mcgonagall to get Grawp on staff, to help with me gamin’ duties,” he stated proudly. 

“You think he’s up to it Hagrid? You think he’ll be able to, er, follow the rules?” asked Hermione. 

“Oh he’s right civil now, an’ been workin’ on his speech o’ course. I think Hilgwup’s been inspirin’ for him,” Hagrid assured them. 

“Hilgwup?” Harry, Ron, and Hermione all said together. 

“His lady friend,” Hagrid said slyly. “I set ‘em up over the summer. She was one o’ the ones tha’ liked Dumbledore’s message back several years ago. Got bullied bad. Left her clan an’ all and been wanderin’ ever since. Until she met Grawp o’ course.” 

Hagrid went on to say that Hilgwup was 17 feet tall (just slightly bigger than Grawp) and a very skilled wrestler - a fact that both Hagrid and Grawp seemed very proud of. Hagrid boasted of the one time he’d managed to beat her in a friendly match, smiling as he recounted the sprained wrist and ankle she’d given him. He promised to introduce them to her once they’d graduated from school, making the three of them smile nervously. 

“And speakin’ o’ relationships,” Hagrid went on, “Seems like quite a few of yeh have been bit by the love bug, eh?” He laughed as Harry, Ron, and Hermione all cleared their throats and looked to their tea cups. “Yeh don’ have ter give details,” he chuckled. “But I ‘ave come across more an’ more couples sneaking off to the corners o’ the grounds. Natural fer people ter do, ‘specially after times o’ war.” Harry continued to stir the dregs of his tea with his finger. 

Their homework calling, they departed Hagrid’s shortly after and headed back toward the common room. 

“Imagine being in the middle of a snog and having Hagrid happen upon you,” laughed Ron. 

Harry chuckled and Hermione said, “I had no idea about Neville and Hannah Abbott! I wonder why he hasn’t mentioned it?” 

“Been a little preoccupied with, er, other activities hasn’t he?” laughed Harry. “He’s never in Gryffindor tower anymore, except to sleep. Now we know why.” They all chuckled, and Harry was starting to feel like things were going back to normal - until they reached the entrance hall that is. 

Terry Boot was standing outside the Great Hall, looking around for someone. When he spotted Hermione, he waved and beckoned her over. Hermione glanced anxiously at Harry, whose face had tightened considerably and said, “Right. Well, I’ve told Terry we’d do our Charms essays together in the library. I’ll see you guys later.” With that, she walked towards Terry and didn’t look back. 

Harry had a full scowl on his face by this point. It was Ron who spoke irritably first though. “Great,” Ron said, “is he trying to make us fail our assignments? How are we supposed to finish them without Hermione?” 

Harry nodded and only managed to choke out, “Git,” as they walked upstairs. 

After several hours of writing and rewriting his essay to include more details and get it closer to the required length, Harry desperately needed a break. He back was aching from slouching in the armchair and his neck could use a massage after spending so much time bent over his paper. He told Ron he was going to go soak in the Prefect’s bathroom for a bit, and headed off, taking the invisibility cloak and Marauder’s Map for good measure. It was likely to be after curfew by the time he was done. 

Harry was sitting in the large pool, the water reaching up to his neck, and absentmindedly poking large orange bubbles that sprayed out heavy white foam once popped. He was trying, and failing, to not think about Hermione and Terry’s heads close together over their books in a quiet spot at the back of the library. Harry wished he had been the one to ask Hermione to Hogsmeade. He slapped his hand down on top of the water savagely as he thought about it. Harry wondered how she would react if he marched up to her now and admitted how he felt. Both Terry and Ginny wouldn’t take kindly to that, he imagined. He hadn’t told Ginny he would date her again; he’d simply said they could be friends. But he knew she was expecting it to develop into something more. He knew he’d given her a coward’s answer. 

Realizing his fingers were starting to prune, he quickly dried off and donned his trousers, trainers, and a clean white t-shirt. Throwing on the cloak and checking the map before pulling the door open, he set off for the common room. 

When he turned down the corridor in which the Fat Lady sat, he noticed two figures standing at the other end. With only a few torches for light, he couldn’t make out who it was and consulted the map. His heart sank into his stomach when he read the two names above the dots: Terry Boot and Hermione Granger. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what they were saying, but he shuffled closer anyway. Moving slowly and trying to control his breathing, he reached them just as Terry was saying, “You make for a pretty great study partner.” 

Hermione smiled but didn’t say anything in reply. 

“Think we could meet up again tomorrow?” Terry asked. Hermione nodded. “Great. Can’t wait. Well, goodnight Hermione.” But before Terry turned away he bent forward and placed a quick, light kiss on Hermione’s lips. Her eyes widened in surprise. Terry smiled slightly, then set off downstairs. 

Harry was seeing red. There was a roaring, that sounded like a rushing train, in his ears. He was biting down hard on his lip, but was too distracted to feel the pain or taste the blood. Right then he wanted to go slam Terry Boot against the wall. Jinx him into oblivion. Convince Peeves to throw him from the North Tower.  _Anything_ to keep him from doing that to Hermione ever again. Resisting the urge to follow him under the cloak and give him a good thump on the head, he studied Hermione. 

She stood there for a few seconds, staring at the top of the stairs where Terry had left. Then she let out a slow sigh, turned around and climbed through the portrait hole. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop...Hermione’s POV.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visiting Hermione’s brain for a bit! Paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Hermione didn’t bother stopping in the common room, making straight for the stairs to the girls’ dormitory. Parvati hadn’t come to bed yet, so Hermione slipped on her favorite pair of flannel pajamas and sat scratching Crookshanks behind his ears while she waited for her friend to appear. 

Having Parvati to talk to had been a godsend this year. Before the war, Hermione had been friendly with her and Lavender, but hadn’t had many in-depth or personal conversations with them. She’d listened to their idle gossip and lived with them getting up an hour earlier than everyone else so they could take extra care with their hair and their faces. She was ashamed to admit that she’d judged them for it back then. She’d deemed them superficial and silly. 

_The death of Lavender, along with the other students who died in the battle, had naturally hit everyone hard. But Lavender was Parvati’s best friend. Parvati had arrived at the start of term in bad shape. She was barely eating, and she would burst into tears any time she looked at what used to be Lavender’s four-poster. She frequented the hospital wing to obtain potions to help her sleep, and she was doing poorly in all her classes. Hermione was at a loss for what to do; she couldn’t imagine how painful life at Hogwarts would be if Harry or Ron hadn’t made it._

_So Hermione had started an earnest attempt to get Parvati to talk to her. It began with Hermione asking her if Gwendoline’s Magic Hair-Taming Serum would help control her curls, to which she had replied, “That stuff? No, you’ll definitely be better off with Posh’s Perfect Polishing Potion,” while she pulled some out of her drawer and applied it to a strand of Hermione’s hair._

_Pretty soon, Parvati was teaching Hermione about all the best products to use- letting her sample her impressively large collection of makeup and delicious_ _smelling perfumes - and teaching her how to contain her hair in intricate braids and updos._

_In the middle of all these demonstrations, Parvati had started to open up about the heavy loss of Lavender. Then she told Hermione all about her childhood, growing up with a twin who was her total opposite. She’d explained her plan to open up a clothing shop with Lavender, with their own original line of witches’ wear. In turn, Hermione had told her a lot about her muggle upbringing, growing up with guy best friends, and a good deal about Harry’s encounters with Voldemort that she was free to share now that he was defeated._

_Parvati had been awed by all the adventures she’d gotten into with Ron and Harry. “Hermione Granger, the closet badass!” Parvati had said with admiration. “I had no idea. No idea how much trouble you got into. I always thought you were stuck up and, well, a little boring,” she’d admitted blushing. Hermione hadn’t taken offense; after all, she hadn’t thought much of Parvati either._

_In October, Parvati started dating Seamus Finnigan. It was then that she became very interested in Hermione’s love life._

“ _Come oooon, Hermione; there’s got to be someone you’re into.” Parvati waggled her eyebrows. “Is it Dean? Are you into the strong, quiet type?” Hermione just shook her head._

_“Please don’t tell me it’s Ron. I know you guys are best mates, but he can be clueless.”_

_“No no, don’t worry. I love Ron, but I’d end up strangling him if I was his girlfriend.”_

_Parvati had given it a rest for about a week, but then she’d had a self-satisfied smirk when Hermione came up to bed one night. As soon as Hermione had settled in bed, Parvati had exploded with, “Harry! It’s Harry, I know it! Don’t deny it, Hermione!”_

“ _Had that bottled up inside for a while, have you?” Hermione had said, trying to laugh it off. “What makes you say that?”_

_“I watched you this week. Really watched you. You melt when you talk to him. You couldn’t tell him ‘no’ even if you wanted to. And you ogle him constantly when you think no one is looking,” Parvati said with an all-knowing look in her eyes as she took in Hermione’s bright blush._

“ _Alright, alright. But you are not to breathe a word of it to anyone,” Hermione threatened._

Crookshanks rolled over and exposed his stomach for her to scratch. After obliging him for a few minutes, she got up and stared out the window while getting a drink of water. The temperature had dropped even more, changing the rain to ice. The wind was blowing so hard she could hear little pellets bouncing off the glass. 

Parvati had been true to her word and not told anyone about Hermione’s feelings for Harry. And she’d given a lot of good advice. Thanks to her wardrobe suggestions, Hermione had noticed Harry’s gaze lingering a lot more lately. Or at least, that’s what she had thought. But everything had become confusing and now Hermione was questioning everything she thought she’d known. Her mind flashed back to the memory of the party after the Quidditch match: 

_ Hermione had been showing Parvati a dress she’d noticed in Witch Weekly - a short, navy dress with lace on the bodice and long, lace sleeves. Parvati was trying to think of an occasion where she might wear it, and Hermione had smiled mischievously at the thought of Harry seeing her in it. That’s when she’d heard Harry utter the words, “Look, why don’t we talk about it next weekend, in Hogsmeade?”  _

_ The smile disappeared from her face so fast it was like she’d been slapped. She  felt _ _like she’d been slapped. She sat there for a few seconds, paralyzed and horrified, until she felt the sting of angry tears in her eyes, then hurriedly ran up the stairs. By the time she reached her dormitory she’d controlled her breathing_ _and the tears were gone, but the anger and confusion had increased tenfold._

_ Ginny had been pestering Harry to get back together for months. Basically any time Harry made eye contact with her she tried to corner him. Harry had been so tired of it he’d stopped going to The Burrow altogether toward the end of summer. He had told Hermione that he wasn’t interested in a relationship with Ginny anymore, that he had no romantic feelings towards her whatsoever.  _

_ So why on earth was he asking her out now?! What could have possibly changed? Hadn’t he been flirting with her - Hermione - for months? Was she a complete idiot who had misread everything?  _

_ Parvati had been right on her heels and entered the room looking at hersympathetically; she knew what Hermione was feeling; she’d heard the exchange as well.  _

“ _What’s he playing at?” Parvati said bewildered. “I was sure he was going to ask YOU!”_

_Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, shaking her head miserably. If she was honest, she had thought the same. Harry had been extremely attentive to her lately. Performing little gestures, like bringing her a piece of her favorite dessert while she was studying in the library, or carrying her book bag for her between classes. He’d been hugging her more than ever, letting his arm linger whenever he put it over her shoulder._

_None of it made any sense. Was it really possible that all this time Harry had just been, well...being Harry? Being nice and thoughtful but not interested in her like that? Hermione sighed, realizing it was entirely possible. Sometimes, Harry could be just as clueless as Ron._

Hermione’s head popped up when Parvati entered the room .  “I’ve finally caught up on homework enough that I don’t feel guilty sleeping and eating for a change,” said Parvati. “I was even able to paint my nails without the usual dreaded vision of McGonagall telling me I have to repeat the year because I’d failed all my N.E.W.T.s.” Hermione chuckled at that. 

Parvati busied herself getting ready for bed, looking back at Hermione while taking out her earrings to ask, “How was your study date?” 

Hermione made a face and said, “It was fine.” 

She settled underneath her blankets and reflected on tonight’s study session with Terry. Truth be told, they hadn’t gotten much work done. He had been more interested in talking. She thought back to one of their conversations: 

“ _I’d been trying to work up the nerve to ask you out for a while. I was a little surprised you said yes, actually,” Terry admitted._

_Hermione blinked, realized what he’d just said, and responded with, “Oh?”_

“ _Yeah,” he said. “Truth be told, I thought you and Potter were an item at the beginning of the year. I was pleasantly surprised when I overheard he had a date with Ginny Weasley.”_

_ Hermione flushed and simply responded with, “They’ve been a thing for a while now.” She wasn’t about to tell Terry that Harry’s date with Ginny was the only reason she’d said yes to him. _

Parvati sighed. “So I take it Mr. Boot isn’t the witty, sexy specimen of a man that’s going to magically help you get over Harry?” 

“Far from it,” Hermione laughed. “He’s nice. Great, if you need a research partner. But nothing romantic in the least. I feel awful saying that,” she finished, feeling disgusted with herself. 

“Don’t feel bad. You aren’t obligated to be attracted to a guy just because he’s nice,” Parvati chimed in. 

“Yeah, but someone decent would break things off at this point, not lead him on,” Hermione said guiltily. 

Parvati proceeded to don her pajamas, not commenting. 

“He kissed me tonight,” Hermione whispered. 

Parvati was surprised by that. “Did he now?” she said. “Moving faster than I thought he would. So...how was it?” 

“Dry,” was all Hermione said. “And quick.” 

Parvati grimaced. “Poor guy. Probably a first for him. Maybe he’ll get better with practice,” she suggested. 

“I don’t want to keep kissing him,” Hermione said exasperated. “You said this would be a wake-up call for Harry. It’s just pushing him farther away; he barely talks to me anymore and he hates Terry.” 

“Maybe he hates him because he’s jealous?” said Parvati with a knowing look. 

“If he’s jealous then why has he gotten back together with his ex?” Hermione countered. 

Parvati grunted. “I heard her you know - Ginny. She was in a stall in the girl’s bathroom talking to her friend standing at the sink. Seems to think Harry will be spending Christmas break with them. She was planning on fixing mistletoe up every two feet, and trying to decide if he would prefer strawberry or cherry flavored lip gloss.” 

Hermione scoffed, making a mental note to stay far away from The Burrow. 

“You don’t think she’s slipped him a love potion or something, do you?” Parvati asked darkly, now brushing her hair. 

“No,” Hermione said. “I don’t think she’d go that far; plus, if it was a love potion, he’d be all over her. I haven’t actually seen them together much.” With that one slightly comforting thought, Hermione fell back on her pillows. 

Terry was a very nice guy, she thought. Going out with him had made her realize how little she knew about her classmates in other houses. They’d spent a large part of their date in Hogsmeade discussing their families, home lives, and interests. She’d learned that Terry came from a large family, having 5 brothers and sisters, with him being the youngest. He enjoyed playing Gobstones and his favorite band was The Whispering Ghouls. He’d just recently made it onto the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team as a chaser - he admitted he wasn’t a superb player, but he played fairly often with his brothers and he enjoyed it. He loved school and learning and regularly voiced how impressed he was with her knowledge base. On paper, he was great. 

All throughout their date he had been attentive, asking her questions about herself, buying her butterbeer and the chocolate-covered nougat on display at Honeydukes (she hadn’t had the heart to tell him she wasn’t fond of nougat). She hadn’t wanted to visit Madam Puddifoot’s either, but Terry had insisted she needed to try the afternoon tea. The place had been hazy, cramped, and full of students that were either lip-locked or sitting on each other’s laps. Terry had been discussing his ambitions to do research with St. Mungo’s after graduating from school, but Hermione had been preoccupied, trying to work out why Harry hadn’t been in the company of Ginny out in the street. 

Terry didn’t ignite any sort of feeling in her. His gaze didn’t make her stomach churn in anticipation; his touch didn’t make her feel warm or cause her brain to go fuzzy; his kiss had been tame and stale. He just wasn’t... _Harry_.

Crookshanks stood suddenly, arched his back, and ambled to the door. Scratching at the crack beneath the door and turning his head to look at her expectantly, Hermione waved her wand lazily to open it for him. 

A wave of sleepiness hitting her, she twisted about in bed long enough for Parvati to finish her nighttime routine and settle down in her own bed. It wasn’t until Parvati threatened her with a full body-bind curse to stop her tossing about that she finally settled on her left side, before drifting into a fitful sleep. 

She was flying around the lake on a clear day. There was a crowd below her, cheering and yelling things she couldn’t hear. She aimed the broomstick down, and flew right above their heads. Parvati was screaming, “GO, GO, GO!” And Ron put his hands to his mouth to yell, “Don’t let up now, Hermione!” 

It was then that she saw Ginny was flying just slightly behind her. Realizing it was a race, Hermione flattened herself to the broom and started another lap around the lake. Then Terry was there, looking angry and batting bludger after bludger at her. She looked at him furiously, then flew up higher and zigzagged her way toward the finish line; Ginny let out an ugly sound and tried to put on a burst of speed, but Hermione crossed it first. The crowd cheered. Then Harry was there, scooping her up in his arms; his movements were fluid like a normal man, but his skin had the look of shiny, molten gold - like a trophy. Ginny threw her broom to the ground in rage and melted into the crowd. 

In the next instant, the scene changed. Hermione and Harry were out on the grounds. Night had fallen. She felt a tall glass pane directly behind her and knew they were standing in the shadow of a school greenhouse. Then she realized that Harry was nuzzling her neck and her heart stopped. Her breath hitched and Harry looked up at her, his eyes looking at her hungrily. He was slowly leaning in towards her when Hagrid suddenly appeared; but Hagrid wasn’t his usual large self, he was a hundred times bigger than them. He sighed and said, “More lovebugs. Everywhere this year, hones’ly.” And then his giant hand was coming down to squash them...

Hermione woke with a start, sweating and heart racing. She jumped up and chugged down a glass of water, looking out the window to see dawn had just broken, and briefly noted that snow was covering the grounds. She put a hand on her chest, willing herself to slow her breathing. Knowing she’d never get back to sleep, she grabbed her clothes and set off to bathe and get ready for the day.

While getting ready Hermione tried desperately to distract her mind. Remembering some of the N.E.W.T. review questions she had glanced at, she mentally listed the properties of the Wolfsbane Potion no less than six times, then recited the different wand-woods and each one’s affinity for nonverbal spells. She even rehearsed the names of the Chudley Cannons team members (given that this was their first winning season in a century and Ron talked about it nonstop, she was fairly confident she’d named even a few reserve players correctly). None of it however, was enough to distract her from the memory of dream Harry’s breath on her neck, or his lips lightly brushing her pulse point, or the look in his eyes that clearly said he wanted to do so much more. Her entire body flushed at the thought, for what seemed like the millionth time since waking. She gulped, and realized today was going to be a long day indeed. 


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

  
Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table with a mug of hot coffee in front of her face, her nose and mouth pressed gently to the cup, begging for the warmth to spread to her skin. The snow and the freezing wind had doused the castle in a creeping cold, making her wish she hadn’t forgotten her gloves and scarf upstairs. She opted for a large bowl of hot porridge, savoring the warmth that spread down to her stomach. She was only a few bites in when Harry and Ron entered the room and walked toward her. 

They both immediately reached for the hot coffee as well. “Bloody hell,” Ron exclaimed. “They should cancel classes, it’s that cold. How are we supposed to function if we’re frozen to our desks?” 

Harry’s teeth chattered in reply. “Agreed,” he said. “I dreamed I was on a beach, but instead of sand it was snow and I was buried up to my head in it. Turns out, it wasn’t far off. Woke up to sheets that felt like ice.” 

Hermione chuckled, which prompted Harry to look up and make eye contact. The corner of his mouth twitched up, but seemed slightly restrained. Her laugh caught in her throat and her mouth went slightly dry. Internally begging herself not to think too long about his lips, she said, “Why don’t we bolt this porridge down and get our winter gear before Potions?” 

In less than two minutes they had quickly emptied their bowls and cups; Hermione was fairly certain she had scalded her throat from the hot coffee, but she barely noticed. Warmth was warmth, after all. They each retrieved gloves, scarf, and earmuffs from their trunks. Hermione even went so far as to borrow one of Parvavti’s balaclavas and stuffed it in her bag - she might look slightly ridiculous but if it was freezing in the main corridors, the dungeons would be unbearable. 

Perhaps because everyone else was avoiding the freezing dungeons for as long as possible, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the first ones to arrive. The door was open, so they entered and picked a table in the back. “I’ve never been more eager to brew a potion,” Harry said with longing in his voice. “Maybe the steam from the cauldron will keep my nose from falling off.” 

Over the next ten minutes more students filed in, shivering and rubbing their mittened hands. Ernie Macmillan sat next to Ron, taking the last seat at their table. A few Slytherins filed in, and last but not least, Terry entered the room with several more Ravenclaws. His head craned, looking for Hermione. She gave a start, having completely forgotten he shared this class with them. She tried to look apologetic as he frowned and took a seat at the front, but in truth she was relieved. 

She had agreed to meet Terry in the library tonight to study. In his mind, she was sure it was a study _date_ , but she found herself feeling rather unenthusiastic about it. Nevermind that the date was with entirely the wrong person; she couldn’t help but feel resentful that the only thing boys could think to do with her was _study_. Of course everyone knew that she adored reading and learning, but even she had her limits on those. There was another large part of her that loved adventure, and mystery, and romantic surprises. Other girls were being taken to secluded corners of the grounds, and she was being taken to the _library_. 

Professor Slughorn walked in then, wrapped in a large puffy coat that trailed from his neck all the way to his toes. A knitted hat was on his head, pushed over his ears, and he was holding his scarf up over his mouth and nose, looking extremely disgruntled. He exposed his mouth only long enough to say, “Work in pairs. Instructions on the board. Proceed.” 

Due to the advanced nature of the Everlasting Elixir they were to produce, they were working in pairs again. Ernie immediately put out his hand and said, “Partner?” to Ron, who briefly shook his hand and replied, “Alright,” looking a little exasperated. Hermione glanced at Harry and said, “Guess you’re stuck with me,” with a small smile. To her relief, Harry smiled back. 

“You get the cauldron started; I’ll grab some ingredients,” Harry said standing up. 

When he returned she sat huddled close to the small fire she had started, attempting to warm her gloved hands. Sitting back down, Harry nudged his chair over and ended up much closer than he normally would, their shoulders and elbows pressed together, attempting to access the heat from the fire for his own hands. Trying to ignore the pressure of his arm and the urge to snuggle into him, Hermione reached quickly for the bat spleen and began slicing. She could feel Terry’s eyes boring into the top of her head from across the room, but she refused to look up. 

“McGonagall says we’re to stay in the Great Hall after dinner tonight, to help set up Christmas decorations,” Harry said reaching for the bitter root and starting to pound it into powder. 

“That’s a week earlier than usual,” Hermione mused while dumping the spleens in the cauldron. 

“First Christmas without Voldemort. I think everyone is keen to really spread the cheer this year.” Harry smiled. “I think Slughorn has an extra special party planned as well...I’m actually a bit excited for it,” he admitted.

Hermione’s eyebrows rose as she gave him an appraising glance. “Really?” she questioned. “Have you gotten an invite then? I haven’t seen anything.” 

“No, not officially anyway. But he’ll be sending them out any time, you watch.” 

Harry turned to look at the instructions on the board, allowing her a few moments to study his face. He hadn’t shaved in two days, which was uncharacteristic of him, but it left Hermione wishing he would forego it more often. The dark stubble lining his jaw made him look rugged and mature. His hair was slightly longer now on top and cut shorter on the sides, meaning it didn’t stick up at every angle and allowed him to style it. He’d been partial to a rather handsome side part lately - today it was styled loosely so his hair kept falling in front of his face, prompting him to smooth it back with his hand frequently. Letting her eyes travel from the nape of his neck downward, she silently appreciated how his neck and back were broader and thicker than they’d ever been...

“Can you pass me the scales?” Harry said suddenly, breaking her out of her trance. In her haste to comply she reached out her hand to grab the scales, but grasped Harry’s hand instead. “S-sorry!” she breathed, dropping his hand and scooting the scales toward him while trying to banish the blush she knew was flaming on her face. Harry looked at her oddly but she was spared by Professor Slughorn approaching the table and clapping Harry on the back. 

“Harry m’boy! And Miss Granger, always a pleasure,” he exclaimed while beaming at them. “I just finalized the plans for my Christmas party last night, you know! Of course, you’re both invited. Think you can fit it into your schedules?” 

“Of course, sir!” Harry said beaming back. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“Knew I could count on you, Harry!” Slughorn pounded Harry on the back once more, then pulled two rolled pieces of parchment from his pocket. “Your formal invitations, and don’t forget to bring a guest!” At this he pulled his scarf back up and waddled to the front, grumbling about coming out of retirement a second time just so he could freeze his arse off in the middle of lessons. 

Hermione turned her attention back to their potion, determined not to get caught ogling her partner again. But thirty minutes later her resolve was tested. She had just added powdered rue to the cauldron and given it a stir when a large cloud of white steam billowed out, and with the sudden gust she got a hint of Harry’s cologne. She silently took a few deep breaths, inhaling a distinct woodsy smell with a hint of citrus. She felt slightly lightheaded; but not only because she found the scent incredibly sexy. 

Before the start of term her and Harry had been in Diagon Alley buying school supplies, when they’d wandered into a new shop called  _Charming Scents_ . It held a wide variety of everlasting candles, long-lasting perfumes and colognes (“ _You can’t sweat us off!_ ” ) , and no-hassle fake plants that exuded the exact scent of the real thing. Hermione had bought some perfume, and out of curiosity sampled the colognes as well. She’d gushed about Harry’s cologne to the witch behind the counter, but he hadn’t been standing next to her then. And she was certain he hadn’t walked out with a package. Had he mail ordered it afterward? Had he gotten it just because he’d overheard how much she liked it? The thought made her flush. Harry leaned across her to adjust the flames and she caught another whiff. She gulped, willing herself not to lean into him, or grab his face and run her fingers along his jaw, or press her nose into the crook of his neck where that delicious smell was coming from. Potions class, she reminded herself, was definitely not the place to express her complicated feelings for her best friend, especially not when the guy she was dating was a few tables over. 

“And time is....UP!” Slughorn shouted at the top of the room, not bothering to lower his scarf this time. “You will continue from this point next time, keeping the same partner. Good day!” 

The room was instantly filled with conversation and the sound of chairs scraping across the stone floor. Harry turned to Ron to discuss their free period, and Hermione could finally breathe again. “What is _wrong_ with me?” she thought furiously. Ever since her dream the night before she seemed to be hyper-aware of everything that was Harry. She yelled out a quick, “See you guys later!” to Harry and Ron, forgetting completely to even acknowledge Terry, and half ran to Arithmancy. 

The rest of the afternoon happened without much incident. Hermione ate her lunch with her head in a large book, and as this was such a common occurrence for her, Harry and Ron didn’t question it. During Defense Against the Dark Arts she made sure that Ron was situated in the middle of their table. Her mind seemed to do better when she wasn’t in close proximity to Harry. The only challenge would be the Christmas decorating. As Head Boy and Head Girl, Harry and Hermione would be responsible for coordinating everything and delegating tasks to the prefects. But with luck, they’d be too busy for her brain to misfire again. 

During dinner Ron brought up the topic of the Christmas holiday. “Are you coming round for Christmas this year, Harry?” Ron asked. “Mum wants a full head count.” Ginny looked up hopefully as Harry glanced at her. “Er, yeah of course. Not about to stay here and spend it by myself, am I?” 

Ron and Ginny grinned, but Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes at the predatory look in Ginny’s eyes. “What about you, Hermione?” Harry asked, nudging her arm. “You coming as well?” 

“No. I mean - I might stop by at some point, but Mom and Dad are really excited to spend the holiday with me at home. They’ve invited the whole family over to stay. And after last year, well, I’d really like to be with them.” 

The rest of the group nodded in understanding. Soon after, the food cleared and the hall began to empty as the students headed back to their common rooms. Harry, Hermione, and Ron walked to the top of the hall where Professor Flitwick was bringing in a train of large, floating boxes. 

“Alright everyone!” called Harry as he stepped onto the topmost step. “Let’s split into pairs and get this done quickly!” The prefects all stepped a little closer to the housemates in their year. “You lot distribute the wreaths,” he said pointing to a pair of fifth year Hufflepuffs. “Ron, you can help Hagrid with the trees.” 

Hermione jumped in, assigning pairs for hanging mistletoe and holly, another for placing glowing baubles along the hall, and another for bewitching the suits of armor. Soon, everyone was bustling away to complete their tasks. Hermione busied herself supervising, having to tell off a pair of Ravenclaw sixth year prefects that had a suit of armor belting out a rather rude tune describing a couple under the mistletoe. And not long after she happened upon a fourth year couple taking advantage of said mistletoe in an empty corridor. When she returned to the Great Hall, Harry was standing against a wall, nervously watching Grawp carry in no less than six giant Christmas trees at once. 

“Is Grawp allowed inside the castle?” she mouthed to Harry once reaching his side. 

“Not sure, to be honest. But McGonagall is helping Flitwick get more supplies a few floors up, so I told them to just be quick about it.” 

They watched as Grawp unceremoniously dumped the trees and walked back outside to grab the other six. While Ron and Hagrid started positioning them upright, she and Harry walked around the hall, summoning snow to fall around the edges and in the corners. She was rearranging a few branches on the tree near her when she felt the first freezing, wet ball of snow make contact with her neck. She shrieked and turned, only to receive another one right in the chest. She heard laughing to her right, and her eyes focused on Harry, doubled over in glee and eyes streaming. Her face changing from shock to determination in less than a second, she immediately scooped up a heavy handful and flung it in his direction. Harry ducked at the last second, causing Ron to receive it right on his ear. Then there was chaos. Every prefect in the room was throwing snowballs, laughing and shrieking in turn. Grawp, who had frozen during the initial onslaught, grimaced (she assumed it was supposed to be a smile) and began forming the largest snowball she had ever seen. She did the only sensible thing - she ran for it. She bolted out of the Great Hall and across the entrance hall, flinging herself at the first classroom door. She allowed another student to dart in behind her before sealing it shut again. It wasn’t until her breathing had slowed that she recognized Harry’s laugh and realized he was the one who had followed her in. He was clutching his sides he was chortling so hard. 

She looked at him for a few seconds, appreciating how handsome his face looked when he was this happy, before she burst out laughing herself. “Malfoy...tried to run...about three seconds too late,” Harry finally managed to get out between laughs. “Grawp lobbed it...and Malfoy ran right into it!” 

Two minutes later and she had settled into a light giggle, and finally noticed which classroom they were in. Springy grass and moss were soft under her feet. A small grove of weathered trees stood nearby, and the night sky could be seen above the hanging branches. A moonlit glow shown down in a clearing in the middle of the room and bled through the trees. And it was  _warm_ \- as warm as an early summer night. Breathing deep, the smell of pine and bark and a faint flowery scent filled her nose. She closed her eyes contentedly and continued to breathe until she heard Harry shift beside her. He was staring at her intently, a serious look on his face. He gulped and raised a hand to shake off clumps of snow in her hair and the neck of her robes. But when all the snow had been removed his hand stayed at her neck, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. 

Her brain stalled. Her eyes were frozen onto his. She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth but didn’t notice because Harry’s eyes kept glancing at her mouth. Was she imagining his breathing becoming erratic just like hers? Had he been this close a few seconds ago? A voice in her head was  _screaming_ at her to close the distance and kiss him before they stepped out of this little dream world and reality hit. 

_Crash_ . 

His hand dropped and they sprung apart just as Malfoy ran into the room wild-eyed, blood lightly dripping from his nose and head completely covered in snow. “That giant almost killed me! And Hagrid is all giddy - congratulating the beast on socializing and ‘playing well with others’!” He looked to them, eyes wide with disbelief and outrage. 

“You should pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said, taking in Malfoy’s feverish manner and glassy eyes. “Grawp doesn’t know his own strength.” His voice was oddly monotoned. 

“Yeah,” Malfoy said nodding his head, staring to the left of Harry’s head. “Go see Grawp...I mean Pompfrey. She knows her own strength.” 

“Right,” Harry said, looking uncertainly at Malfoy. “I’ll just go talk to Hagrid then.” And without a look back at her, he exited the room. Suddenly the sky and the trees didn’t seem quite as warm or inviting - in fact, the light seeping down now looked rather cold. 

Shivering, she turned to Malfoy. “You, er, do remember how to get to the hospital wing, don’t you?” When he stood staring blankly at her in response she sighed and grabbed his upper arm. “Come on then, I’ll just help you get there.” 

Once she had deposited Malfoy in the hospital wing, explaining to Madam Pomfrey about the oversized snowball to the head (but leaving out exactly who threw said snowball), she made her way back to the Great Hall. She was greeted by a truly spectacular display. Golden and silver baubles of all sizes floated around the room in addition to the traditional candles. Great golden icicles that seemed to hum Christmas tunes adorned mantles and windowsills. Snow was floating across the enchanted ceiling and building up around the edges of the room. The twelve great Christmas trees sported fairy lights, as well as red and white poinsettias and color changing ribbon. 

A large smile splitting her face, she watched everyone else stand back to admire their work. She noted that Hagrid and Grawp were absent. Harry was at the top of the hall with McGonagall and Flitwick, both of whom were beaming at the decorations. McGonagall clapped her hands twice and called out, “Well done, well done prefects! And a special thank you to our Head Boy and Head Girl for coordinating tonight. I think we can all go and rest, with the satisfaction of a job well done!” 

She watched the prefects trickle out as Ron and Harry walked toward her. Ron was grinning from ear to ear and saying, “That was excellent. Grawp has definitely got an invite to any future gatherings!” when they drew level with her. 

“I’m pretty sure he gave Malfoy a concussion,” Hermione said. Knowing that the eye roll was coming she continued to say, “I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it. He’s still a git. But Hagrid could get into trouble if Grawp keeps hurting students, no matter how unintentionally.” 

“It was a close shave. Him and Hagrid had just left the hall when McGonagall arrived,” Harry said. “Surely Madam Pomfrey will have him fixed up quickly...” Harry trailed off, looking slightly anxious. 

More out of habit than anything, Hermione stepped towards him and grabbed his arm. “You know she will, Harry. And McGonagall might talk to Hagrid, but she wouldn’t do anything drastic.” 

He stared at the place her hand was wrapped around him and nodded. He looked up at her then, jaw flexed and eyes searching. Not knowing exactly what he was looking for, she stared back, wanting him to read her thoughts - wishing they were back in that classroom, alone. 

Then in the back of her mind, sounding as though he was miles away, she heard Ron mutter, “Errr, right. You guys ready to head back up then?” She shook herself mentally and looked at him. His expression was bewildered, jumping back and forth between her and Harry. 

Harry cleared his throat and stepped away, heading toward the stairs. “Yeah, come on. Fancy a game of Wizard’s Chess, Ron?” 

“If you’re ready to lose more of your chocolate frog collection, sure,” Ron laughed. They continued to trash talk each other while Hermione lagged slightly behind. Her brain seemed like it was going into overdrive. Harry had given her that look twice today. He’d practically cuddled up to her in potions, wearing that cologne he  _knew_ she liked. And if Malfoy hadn’t burst into the room when he had...

But, wait. Wasn’t this the type of stuff she had been so sure of before he’d asked Ginny to Hogsmeade? Hadn’t she read way too much into those little details, convincing herself that he felt the same, only to watch him pursue someone else yet again? 

“Hermione?”

Looking up at her name, she realized Terry was standing in the corridor that led off to the library. He had been waiting on her for their study date, which she had totally forgotten about in the last few hours. 

“Oh, hi!” she said blushing, mostly because she had chanced a glance at Harry and noticed how his jaw tightened upon seeing Terry. Terry walked over, took her book bag, and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Alright, Ron?” Terry called, glancing back. 

“Yeah, mate. I’m good,” Ron said, looking bewildered again as he looked between the rest of them repeatedly. 

Terry nodded, briefly glanced at Harry and tightened his own jaw, before turning to Hermione and grabbing her hand. Without another word, he led her off down the corridor. She turned and said, “See you guys later,” not missing the way Harry’s eyes were narrowed at Terry’s back or the curled fist at his side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop...Slughorn’s Christmas party!


	6. Chapter 6

** CHAPTER 6 **

  
“Ok, pick a color. There’s  _ Color Me Innocent _ ,” Parvati said, shaking a bottle of brilliant white nail polish at her. “Or... _ Twilight Blue _ . What do you think?” 

Hermione looked up to consider the two. “Hmmm...I think the white. My dress is enough blue.” 

“Good point,” Parvati replied. “And the nude heels, of course. Are we doing your hair up or down? If you want it down, we better start now. You know how long it takes to control those curls.” 

Sighing and moving over to Parvati’s bed she stated, “Let’s get a move on then.” 

At once, her friend pinned her hair up in layers and began creating small, intricate curls. Hermione placed her hands flat out in front of her and watched as the nail polish unscrewed itself and began coating the first nail. 

She’d been a ball of nerves and anticipation since waking up this morning, tonight being Slughorn’s Christmas party and the last day before the end of term. Tonight, Harry would be forced into her company after several weeks of strictly avoiding her. At first she’d tried to write it off as him simply being busy - being Head Boy, quidditch Captain, and in your seventh year was a heavy load for anyone. But even during free periods he’d taken to wandering outside of the common room, or else hanging out with other people. Hagrid had approached her and asked if Harry was alright, owing to the uptick in his visits to Hagrid’s cabin and his general moodiness. And he did appear to be out-of-sorts. He often sat with Ginny and her friends at meals now, but he mostly sat in silence while they talked, or else opened a book and at least pretended to read. 

Poor Ron was totally flummoxed by Harry’s behavior. He tried to spend equal time between Harry and her, and often complained about his best friend’s attitude. “I don’t know what’s got into him, honestly!” Ron had exclaimed after one particularly frustrating Quidditch practice. “Everyone played lousy because he was shouting so much. Ginny dropped more catches than I’ve ever seen and even she yelled at him. He’s just not that fun to be around, to be honest..”

She had long since abandoned attempts at initiating contact with him. She usually ate with Seamus and Parvati, and spent a large part of her time in the library. She never really asked Terry to accompany her, but he always showed up. He’d started calling himself her boyfriend, even though they’d never talked about it and rarely did anything but study side-by-side.Occasionally he grabbed her hand if they were walking down the hall. Once, he had largely hinted that he’d like to catch her underneath the mistletoe, after which she avoided the plants like the plague. 

Terry had also naturally assumed that he would accompany her to Slughorn’s party. Harry would, of course, be taking Ginny. Ron hadn’t secured an invite, and Luna wouldn’t be there as a buffer this year. She briefly thought that tonight was bound to be both dull and nerve-wracking. 

“Hermione, you’re about to get a lap full of polish.” 

Looking down, she finally noticed the bottle bumping into her thumb repeatedly, trying to signal her to raise her hand, which had unknowingly fallen into her lap. 

An hour later she had three layers of polish, a waterfall of sleek curls down her back, and a light layer of makeup with Parvati’s signature smokey eye. 

Parvati admired her in the mirror. “Damn, I’m good,” she said with a smirk. 

Hermione shook her head and said, “I was going to say the same thing, but I wouldn’t want it to go to your head.” 

All this earned from Parvati was an eye roll and gentle push toward her dress, which was hanging on the bedpost. She slipped into it, taking special care with the lace sleeves. Next, she slipped on her nude, strappy heels then walked back to the mirror. 

There was no denying it - she looked  good . In fact, she felt downright sexy. The dress was snug, accentuating her slim waist and curves. The sleeves were long and laced, the lace made up of intricate little flowers, leaves, and vines, which extended into the bodice. It was a jewel neckline with a clasp that reached behind to the base of her neck, leaving the middle of her back bare. The skirt reached mid-thigh, making her legs look long (helped along by the heels). She thought back to when she’d first seen this dress, and her plans to wear it for Harry. He wasn’t her date tonight, but she hoped he was a little tortured when he saw her in it. 

————

Harry tied the last knot on his shoelace, then stood up to examine his appearance in the mirror. Crisp white shirt with a dark green vest under black dress robes. Tailored black slacks and polished shoes. He applied a small amount of gel to his hair and parted it to the right. Glasses were clean. He couldn’t think of anything else to do, so he opened his arms and turned to Ron. “Well, does it look decent?” 

Ron stopped polishing his broom handle and glanced at Harry. “Looks good,” he shrugged. “I don’t see Ginny complaining.” 

Harry nodded and checked his watch. He was a little over-anxious and had gotten ready earlier than was needed. On the whole it had only taken him fifteen minutes, and that included a shower and shave. There was still another thirty minutes before he was to meet Ginny in the common room. So - he paced. Up and down the dormitory, wishing he could see into the future and how this night was going to play out. 

If you’d asked him how excited he was for this party about a month ago, he would have said, “Pretty damn excited.” The Head Auror was scheduled to be there, with whom Harry was looking forward to talking. But even more importantly, the Weird Sisters would be preforming live music, and a large part of him had been hoping for a dance with a single Hermione. Throw in a glass or two of mead, and the possibilities were endless...or at least they had been in his head. 

But that was before Hermione had gotten herself a boyfriend. Before he’d grasped at straws and agreed to...well, he wasn’t even sure what he was doing with Ginny. He hadn’t even invited her to the party - she had just assumed she was his date. The first time he’d talked to Ginny about it was when she’d approached him in the common room to show him the dress she’d bought for it, and shown him the matching green vest. 

True, Harry had been hanging around Ginny and her friends a good deal over the past several weeks, but he’d never made any moves on her or tried to encourage her. He hadn’t even been mentally present for most of the conversations. But she seemed to take the party and him coming to the Burrow for Christmas as encouragement enough. Frankly, he couldn’t bring himself to care much. He spent most of his time brooding over the fact that Hermione was walking around the castle holding hands with Terry Boot. She claimed that the two of them spent most of their nights studying in the library, but he found that hard to believe. Unwanted images of Hermione snogging Terry in abandoned classrooms were brought to the forefront of his mind and he ground his teeth. He’d once considered walking to the library to see for himself, but couldn’t bear the thought of them not being there and his suspicions being confirmed.

But as much as he couldn’t be around Hermione, being without her was just as miserable. Everything clicked when he had her to talk to, vent to, and joke with. She understood him completely, was always honest with him, and knew how to break through his stubbornness. Everything about Hermione was warm - her brown eyes, her soft touch, the way she said his name. He missed it. He craved it. It was all he thought about. 

And yet there she was, going about life as usual. Confiding in another bloke - spending more and more time with him as the weeks dragged on. Tonight, he’d undoubtedly have to watch as she danced and laughed with Terry, enjoying the music and drinks. And of course, Terry wouldn’t miss a chance to throw a few self-satisfied smirks in Harry’s direction. 

“Mate, you trying to set your new robes on fire?” 

Harry glanced up at Ron, who was staring at Harry’s fist. Looking down, he realized his wand was spitting red sparks. He quickly put them out and pocketed the wand in his robes. “Guess I’d better head down then,” he said, flustered. 

Five minutes later, he was sitting on the arm of the couch in the common room, knee bouncing. Had Hermione already gone down? He hadn’t even considered the possibility of encountering her here, alone. The door to the girls’ dormitory opened, and he was surprised to see an apologetic-looking Parvati walking toward him. 

“Harry, thank goodness. Ginny sent me to find you. She’s just started feeling rather ill.” 

“Is she alright? Does she need to go to the hospital wing?” 

“I think she will, yes. If she can stop puking for more than a few seconds. I left her looking rather green,” Parvati said, with a faint look of disgust on her face. 

“Should I help? Why did she send for me?” 

“She just wanted me to tell you she couldn’t join you for the party. She said to go on ahead, but she’s in no shape to come. Plus, her dress is rather ruined at this point.” 

“Oh, well alright. Thanks for letting me know, Parvati.” 

She was already pushing him toward the portrait hole. “No problem. I’ll help her to the hospital wing, don’t you worry.” 

Next thing he knew the Fat Lady had swung shut behind him. He stared at her stupidly for half a second, then headed towards Slughorn’s quarters. He felt a little awkward at the idea of arriving, in dress robes, without a date - but a larger part of him was relieved. He wouldn’t have to dance with Ginny, or talk about their relationship, or have to worry about how to introduce her to strangers. 

He could hear the music and voices as soon as he entered the corridor. Inside, there was a large gathering of Hogwarts students, teachers, and guests of various notoriety. Kingsley Shacklebolt, now Minister of Magic, was having an animated discussion with a pair of shrewd-looking goblins. What appeared to be every member of Puddlemere United was in the center of the room, shaking hands and signing autographs. And on a raised platform in the corner, the Weird Sisters were belting out a quick, catchy tune. Blue-uniformed wizards and Hogwarts house elves wandered around carrying serving platters, offering everyone sandwiches, pies, butterbeer, and mead. Harry reached out for a glass of mead passing by his elbow and downed it while looking for anyone familiar. 

Moving through the crowd he spotted Neville conversing with a short, middle- aged wizard with very large forearms and thick glasses. On approach he heard the man saying, “And don’t forget laddie, we’ve got forty-five greenhouses, filled with over 5,000 species of plants. Six internship spots left yet...” and he trailed off as Harry reached them. 

“Hey, Harry!” Neville exclaimed. “Patrick here was just telling me about an internship in Ireland - all of the best herbologists have started research there.”

“That’s great, Neville!” Harry said. “I won’t interrupt you then. Listen, have you seen anyone else yet?” 

“I saw Hermione just a few minutes ago, over by the chocolate fountain.” 

“Right. Thanks.” Harry waved and walked away, in the opposite direction of the fountain. 

Two more glasses of mead later and Harry was finally starting to feel at ease. His nerves had settled. Gawain Robards had sought him out and told him he was a shoo-in for the auror training program. And the seeker of Puddlemere United had shaken his hand and offered him tickets to a match whenever he wanted. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Ron’s face when he handed him a ticket as a graduation present. 

He was just making his way toward the stage to watch the Weird Sisters perform when he heard her. 

“ _Harry_ ?” 

He stopped, hating the way her voice made his heart speed up and his palms sweat - cursing himself for wanting to hear more. He turned, and felt like he’d been bludgered in the head. 

He’d always thought Hermione was beautiful. And over the years he’d become incredibly attracted to her, evidenced by her almost nightly appearances in his dreams, in not-so-appropriate ways. But tonight...tonight she looked exquisite. Gorgeous.  _Sexy as hell_ . He knew he should try to be discreet in his ogling, but couldn’t help the multiple sweeps of her body that his eyes did of their own accord.  _That dress_ \- why wasn’t it part of the daily Hogwarts uniform? Surely life would be better for everyone if it was. It clung to her curves and stopped at mid thigh, making her legs look forever long. Her arms and chest were covered in intricate lace, which was somehow more enticing than if they’d been bare. Her hair fell down around her shoulders in a mass of sleek, soft curls, with two loose braids starting at her temples and pinned back. Her lips were that shade of deep burgundy that drove him crazy. And those heels...it was all he could do to keep himself from groaning aloud. 

Her smile was what really completed the look - she was beaming. He could tell by the way she carried herself that she was totally confident in herself tonight. There was a glow about her skin and her eyes were glinting in the fairy lights above their heads. 

“H-hey, Hermione,” he rasped out. When she continued to smile at him he plowed on. “Good party, eh? Have you met anyone interesting?” Here, a waiter stopped and offered a tray of beverages, so he added, “Would you like a drink?” 

“Mmm blackberry mead sounds nice. Sure, I’ll have one.” The waiter handed her a glass and she sipped it, closing her eyes to savor it and lightly smacking her lips once she’d swallowed. 

Grinding his teeth, he quickly downed another glass of mead while she had her eyes closed. 

Once opened again, they cast around him as if looking for something. “Where’s Ginny?” she asked. 

“Wasn’t feeling well. Some kind of stomach bug. Parvati was trying to get her to the hospital wing when I left.” 

Her eyes narrowed and mouth turned down for a split second before she replied. “Oh! What horrible timing; I’m sorry, Harry.” 

He merely shrugged. “Where’s Terry?” 

He was surprised to see her roll her eyes and glance across the room. “He’s been talking to Healer MacArthur for over an hour now, with no end in sight.” 

Suddenly invigorated by her annoyance with Terry, but perhaps mostly because the extra glass of mead was kicking in, he had an inspiration. 

“Would you like to dance, Hermione?” He put it out there suddenly, before he had time to second-guess it, and offered his hand. 

She looked at him with sparkling eyes, widened in surprise, while he held his breath. “I’d love too,” she said in a breathy voice that made him gulp. She put her hand in his and he backed toward the stage. 

Once they were only a few feet away from the band, and surrounded by other couples, Hermione smiled at him wickedly and started swaying to the music. He loosely grabbed her hips and mimicked her movements, not caring that he wasn’t any good at this. Not caring that her smell of vanilla and cinnamon was overwhelming him and drawing him closer than he’d allowed himself to be in weeks. All he cared about was  _her_ . If she wanted to stay here and dance all night he would - he was powerless when it came to her. 

He couldn’t even hazard a guess to how many songs they danced to before the band took a short pause. Hermione’s cheeks were flushed pink and she was beaming at him. He realized then that he could get high off that look. His whole body ached for her, to pull her up against him.He wanted to hold her - breathe her in. 

And then the Weird Sisters broke into a sweet, slow tune. Couples around them snuggled up to each other and only barely swayed to the music. Hermione bit her lip and looked at him, her eyes unsure. He answered by simply pulling her to his chest, his arms dropping low on her waist. Briefly, he was worried she would push him away; but then she rested a hand on his chest and put her head next to his cheek, their feet turning ever so slowly on the spot. 

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?” He whispered in her ear. She blushed, the corner of her mouth turning up as she shook her head. 

“Well that was my mistake. Because you do. You are absolutely perfect.” 

A breath puffed out against his neck and she pulled back slightly to look at his face. Hers looked tortured as she bit her lip again. “Harry...you can’t just say stuff like that.” 

“Why not?” They had stopped dancing completely now. Both her hands were on his chest now and he reached up to grab her chin. 

“Because-“ she had started to say. 

Harry heard someone to his right shout, “ _Oi_!” about a millisecond before he was shoved roughly toward the stage. 

Thanking Merlin for his Seeker reflexes, he twisted, pushing off the edge of the stage with his forearms, and spun back to face his attacker. And there was Terry, fists clenched at his sides and his eyes bulging. 

“What are you playing at, Potter?!” He spat out the last part, as if Harry’s name was acid on his tongue. 

“Dancing,  _Boot_ . Since when does that warrant making a scene?” 

“Dancing! Dancing, my arse! Getting handsy is more like it. I’m just supposed to stand by and watch you get intimate with  _my girlfriend_ ?!”

“Well at least someone is paying her some attention tonight,” Harry growled while stepping forward. They were toe-to-toe now, but Harry had two inches on him, not to mention twenty more pounds of muscle. 

“Oh and that’s your job is it? Last time I checked, you had your own girlfriend. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been ignoring Hermione for weeks.” 

“Maybe it’s not Hermione I have a problem with...maybe it’s the company,” Harry shot back. 

“I’m not good enough, is that it?”

“You said it, not me.” He smiled coldly at Terry, whose face blanched. 

“Alright, I think that’s  _quite_ enough,” Hermione said fiercely as she put her hands between them and forced them to step back. “We’re at a party, in case you’d forgotten, and we are  _not_ tonight’s scheduled entertainment.” 

They had indeed attracted a lot of attention. Everyone surrounding their small circle had stopped to stare, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Hermione was clinging to Terry’s arm, whispering in his ear and attempting to push him

back into the throng of people. The sight made bile rise up in his throat. What had he been expecting? She wasn’t going to come chasing after him while her boyfriend was upset. He turned on his heel, spared a glance at the onlookers and said, “Show’s over,” and made toward the exit. 

Three corridors away he stopped and slammed his fist into a wooden door, then stood before it breathing hard. He was sick of it. Sick to death of loving someone that wasn’t his. Sick of her not knowing the truth. He missed her so much it was driving him mad, but he couldn’t go back to the way things had been, just being her friend - he wanted so much more. No matter what he did she was stuck in his head. In his veins. 

He backed away from the door, needing to move. He uttered a quick, “ _Reparo_ ,” to fix the busted hinge he’d created, then set off for Gryffindor tower. 

Tomorrow he and the Weasleys would depart for the burrow. He vowed to himself that he would talk to Ginny and tell her his feelings before the end of the day. That might mean he wasn’t welcome at the Weasleys’ for the holiday, but it had to be done. Ginny would probably be heartbroken, Mrs. Weasley would be frosty toward him once she found out, and Ron probably wouldn’t be impressed. He had no doubt they would forgive him and move on as time passed, but he might have to spend the next few weeks at the Leaky Cauldron. 

He stepped through the portrait hole to an empty common room. It must be later than he thought. He went to the fire, removing his dress robes and vest as he walked, and sunk into an armchair. What had Hermione thought about the whole exchange? Harry hadn’t started it, surely she wouldn’t be mad at him. She had seemed a little unnerved by the way he’d been talking to her though, before Terry had ruined the moment. 

What if Terry hadn’t interrupted? What would Hermione have said? Would Harry have kissed her, like he’d been contemplating? He sighed. Maybe it was all for the best...

He heard the portrait hole open and stood when Hermione entered the room, eyes blazing and fixed on him. 

“Explain,” she said firmly, her mouth a serious line. 

“Look, I didn’t start that. You were there, you saw him come barreling in and attack me.” 

She laughed, but not in a funny way. She raised her hand to massage between her eyes and said, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

He looked at her hopelessly. “Hermione - what do you want me to say?” 

“Why don’t you tell me your reasoning behind pushing me away - ignoring me - for  _weeks_ ! And after all that, you show up tonight and act like it  _never happened_ ! You go from barely sparing me a glance, to telling me that I’m b-beautiful...” 

Hermione’s demeanor collapsed at that last word, her face splitting in pain and tears welling in her eyes. But Harry was already across the room and grabbing her elbows before it was fully out of her mouth. 

He pulled her to him, brushing his hands over her hair, her arms, and her shoulders. 

“Hermione, I’m sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong,” he whispered to her. 

“Then why are you treating me like I have?” She begged. 

“It’s me. Just me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Somewhere above a door opened. Someone had come out of their dormitory, most likely making for the common room. He only had a few seconds to resolve this conversation. He had so much to tell her. He hated being the source of her pain and tears. And as he looked at her red eyes and tear streaked mascara and dark lips, he thought she was just as beautiful as ever, and there was only one thing for him to do. 

He threaded his right hand into her hair at the base of her head and his left gripped her waist to pull her flush against him. Then his lips crashed to hers and he lost all sense of reality.  _ Her lips _ . Soft and plump and warm. She still tasted slightly of blackberry mead. Surely he was floating, high up in the sky - that must be why he felt so  _ free _ . His body felt light and his blood felt like it was on fire. He was warm everywhere, especially his palm thathad her skin directly beneath it. 

His hand trailed, his thumb tracing paths down her neck. Now that he’d started he never wanted to stop. His tongue gently licked her bottom lip and she opened her mouth instantly, causing a groan to travel up his throat. 

And then came the worst moment of Harry’s life. He could hear footsteps close by now, and Hermione broke the kiss to back away. Her eyes were hooded and her mouth slightly open, brow furrowed and confusion lining her face. 

He felt cold at their separation - desperate to get back to her and feel her under his hands. And then Parvati was standing at the entrance to the girls’ dormitory, looking back and forth between him and Hermione. 

“I, uh, woke up and saw that you weren’t in your bed,” Parvati said while looking at her friend. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt - just wanted to make sure you were ok.” She looked very uncomfortable, like she was truly regretting leaving her room. 

“It’s - it’s fine,” his voice faltered. “We were just heading up as well.” Hermione and Parvati both stood there looking at him. He couldn’t read Hermione’s expression and that terrified him. Did she regret it? Did she hate him for it? Had he just ruined any and all forms of friendship with her? He backed away toward his dorm, breaking inside at the thought. 


	7. Chapter 7

** CHAPTER 7 **

The dream she was having was slowly slipping away as her mind struggled to fight off the fog of sleep. There had been pine trees, and a tent, and a boy. The scene had been abnormally quiet, but peaceful. She was certain she’d been there before...

She shifted in bed and opened her eyes as two things registered in her mind simultaneously. The remnants of laundry detergent on her pillowcase smelled of lilac and honeysuckle - the same brand her mum had been using since she could remember. And the smell of bread wafting through the house meant Mrs. Granger’s signature wheat loaf was in the oven. 

Home. She was home. She’d walked out the gates to Hogwarts at first light that morning, after not sleeping a wink, and apparated to her parents’ front door. Her father had answered, exclaiming over the early arrival. She’d simply kissed his cheek and stumbled up the stairs to collapse on her bed. 

The lighting around the room was weird, so it must be well past morning. A glance at her watch told her it was 4:47 in the afternoon. 

_ Merlin, she’d slept all day.  _

After 30 minutes of showering and tidying up she descended the stairs and walked toward the kitchen. Now she could take the time to appreciate the wreaths, lights, and holly plastered around the banisters, doors, and fireplace. Christmas was her mum’s favorite holiday. Hermione had always dreamed of taking her to Hogwarts to let her see some magical winter decor. 

Dorothy Granger was busily stirring a pot on the stove while humming a Christmas carol, shifting on her feet to the tune. Her apron was dusted with flour and her thick brown hair was pulled back into a bun. Hermione leaned on the door frame and smiled, watching her mother in her element. 

“Something smells delicious, mum,” she said from the doorway. 

“Hermione, dear! I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up,” Dorothy said playfully, pointing the spoon at her while she looked her daughter over. “Are you alright dear? Have you been over-working yourself again?” 

Hermione was certain the last questions had come because of the bags under her eyes. “No mum, I’m fine. This year has been my easiest yet, believe it or not.” 

And it was true. While 7th year was obviously filled with the most advanced magic you could learn at Hogwarts, there were no sinister plots or threats to divide their attention. They were normal students who did normal student things: study, sports, building friendships. 

Her mum looked skeptical but didn’t pursue it, instead instructing her to set the table while she pulled dishes out of the oven. Her father entered a few minutes later and sat at the table just as it was time to eat, and Hermione enjoyed chatting about the dental practice, the neighbors, and the football league her dad was planning on coaching in the spring. 

As her mum placed a steaming peach pie in the center of the table, she couldn’t help but smile in contentment. She was home, and her parents were well, and life was finally void of Voldemort and the misery he’d brought. The past day had been one whirlwind emotion after the next, but she worked hard to push it from her mind, at least for a little while longer. 

Thirty minutes later and she was standing in front of the sink, drying and stacking the dishes that her mother handed her. Her mum was washing silently, which most certainly meant she was thinking hard about something. Finally, she ventured into the conversation she must have been holding back for hours. 

“Sooo...are you going to tell my  _ why _ you arrived home at the crack of dawn, after clearly being up all night?” 

Hermione sighed. “I suppose there’s a lot of detail that hasn’t made it into my letters.” And she launched into the whole story. Her feelings for Harry and her sneaking suspicion that he felt the same, only to be squashed by his date with Ginny. She explained that she’d been dating Terry, hoping that either Harry would be jealous or that she could finally start to get over him. And she ended with the mind-blowing, ultra-confusing kiss that Harry had given her, resulting in her night of zero sleep. 

Dorothy’s mind was still processing once Hermione quieted, her eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open. Hermione cleared her throat and her mother’s eyes darted to hers. 

“Well,” she started. “Yes, you certainly did forget to mention that little bit.” She gave a half smile then pulled her daughter into a hug, soapy hands leaving wet imprints on Hermione’s back. “Oh Hermione, I’m so sorry. That’s enough drama to put anyone into a right state.” 

Hermione let out a heavy breath, feeling relief after finally talking about it. “Thanks, mum. Any advice on where to go from here?” 

“I think...did you say his name was Terry?” 

Hermione nodded. 

“And I think it’s safe to say you have no romantic feelings for him?”

Hermione shook her head hurriedly. 

“Then I think your first course of action is obvious. Put a stop to that as quickly as possible. And then...Hermione, you know you’ll have to talk to Harry.” 

Hermione sighed. “The irrational part of me was hoping I could just put that last part off indefinitely,” she mumbled. 

“You’ve only ever told us good things about Harry; I don’t think he would try to hurt you. And I have to believe he has some feelings for you, Hermione. Normal people don’t just snog their friends.” 

Hermione blushed and glanced away. Her mother had never talked about snogging, especially in reference to her. 

“Then why date someone else? Why walk off after the kiss and leave me hanging? Did he regret it? I just don’t  know,  mum. You know how I hate not knowing.” 

“There’s only one way to find out,” her mother said chuckling. “ Ask .” Here she turned and promptly began scrubbing the casserole dish before her. Hermione watched as the grime melted away under the hot water and was replaced by clear, sudsy water. Suddenly her mother placed the dish onto Hermione’s toweled hand and kissed her cheek. 

“And one more thing. I understand if you need time to work things out, but don’t take too long, dear. The longer you wait, the more you’ll want to keep waiting.” 

Hermione stood at the counter for several minutes more, staring at the sparkling white porcelain dishes before she walked to her room, forming the letter she was about to write in her mind. 

\----------- 

The breeze was strong enough that it called for a jacket, but the sky was so clear that the sun was beating down on her face, making the table outside surprisingly comfortable for this time of year. Before her was a small cup of her favorite flavor from Florean Fortescue’s: Chunky Cherry Chocolate. Normally the cup would have been empty by now, but with her mind so busy today it didn’t quite hit the spot like it normally would. She glanced down and saw that the ice cream had mostly turned to mush and pushed it away. 

Terry was due to arrive any minute now. She had been trying to prepare for this moment for the past week. The letter had been sent the morning after she’d talked with her mum - just a quick note wishing his holiday well and asking him to join her in Diagon Alley soon. He’d sent back the date and time and no more correspondence had taken place. Hermione’s extended family had arrived and she’d spent most of her waking hours helping prepare meals, playing board games with her uncles, or taking her younger cousins on outings to give her aunts a break. 

The whole time there had been a small, lurking anxiety about this meeting in the back of her mind, but she’d been unable to come up with any firm plan. How to start, what to say, how to be firm but kind. She’d never thought about how to break up with someone before. There was a small knot in her stomach, but more than anything she just wanted this to be over with. 

She glanced up the street for the eighteenth time and finally saw him making his way toward her. Glancing over him she took in his clean-shaven face, white sweater, pressed slacks, and loafers. She fought hard to keep her face neutral as she considered how he was wearing everything she  didn’t like. 

_ Deep breath, Hermione. This will be over soon.  _

Once reaching the table he smiled weakly and sat down across from her. He had to know what was coming, right? Surely he couldn’t be surprised? 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hi, thanks for coming,” she said with a friendly smile. But the smile only made him wince. 

“Hermione...you asked me here to break things off didn’t you?” 

She hadn’t even given an answer yet but his face said that he had steeled himself for this, and that he understood. His get-to-the-point, business-like attitude was horrible for romance, but pretty perfect in this instance. For that she was grateful. 

Her face answered with a wince of its own. “Well...yes actually. I don’t really know how to go about this, you know,” she said while rubbing her neck and looking at the table. “You’ve been nothing but nice to me, Terry. But I just don’t think we’re a good fit. We want different things. I don’t really see it going any further. Surely you’ve had some of the same thoughts?” She asked the question hoping sincerely that he had. 

He looked at her and gave a nod. “Yeah. I was really hopeful on our first date, you know. But as time went on it was clear that there wasn’t much of a...spark? I can’t say I was surprised when I got your letter.” 

She sighed, but inside felt like a weight had been lifted. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Truly. I hope you do find your spark. And soon.” 

“Thanks, Hermione. You too.” He smiled genuinely now and stood to go. He looked like he was debating with himself, until he finally looked up and asked, “Sorry, but...might this have something to do with Harry Potter?” 

She blushed, but to her credit she looked him straight in the eyes. “Maybe just a little bit,” she said truthfully. 

He nodded a final time and then turned to go, gelled hair shining in the sun. Feeling significantly lighter, Hermione shook her head and allowed herself a giggle. Perhaps that amount of normalcy would suit Luna - a balance of sorts for her eccentricity. And he definitely needed someone to lighten him up...it was a thought that could be entertained. 

Hermione ambled around buying necessities, splurging on a new scarf and jacket, before she made her final stop at the owl post. She wrote a quick note: 

_ Dear Ron and Harry,  _

_ Hope you guys are having a good Christmas! We’ve lots of family over to stay, so I’m keeping busy. I plan on visiting the Burrow on Christmas Eve. See you soon.  _

_ Love, Hermione  _

She tied the letter to the owl and gave the money to a woman behind the counter, then walked back out to the street. A large part of her wanted to apparate to Harry immediately, grab him by his neck, and demand answers. But he was on holiday with the Weasleys, probably in close proximity to Ginny most of the time, and she was unsure if Harry had even told anyone about the kiss. She wasn’t about to swoop in and ruin everyone’s Christmas, if that was the case. 

Later that night, well after the house had fallen quiet, Hermione lay staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling. Something about breaking up with Terry had made it seem acceptable not only to think about the kiss - but to fully immerse herself in it. To remember Harry’s calluses on her skin, the feel of his stubble on her cheek, the heat of his mouth and how damn good it had felt. His groan, full of need and want, was replaying itself in her head and made her feel dizzy.  She had elicited that response in him. He had been passionate, and impulsive, and desperate for  her . Not Ginny. Not anyone else. 

He had been drinking, but he’d appeared quite sober after she’d stormed in on him. 

She wasn’t willing to allow him that excuse. 

She huffed and pummeled her pillow. Because now that she allowed her mind to go there, she was aching for him. She wanted to be under his hands again. She needed to hear his laugh again. Her best friend had been missing from her life for too long now. 

She was sick and tired of loving someone that wasn’t hers. They had known each other for years, but now she knew just how  good it felt to know him like that. And she was breaking at the thought of never having it again. If he said it was a mistake, could she ever be around him again without craving more? Could she stand watching him direct those feelings toward someone else? 

She couldn’t. She knew she wasn’t that strong. Her eyes closed and she tried to force him out of her head, to will away the memory of his body pressed into hers. Her dreams showed that she failed miserably.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

  
_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

His head bent against the cold wind, Harry watched as his boots sunk through the top icy layer and into the soft snow underneath. He reached the small shed and unlocked the door, peering into the tiny dark room in search of the chicken feed. Grabbing two heaping handfuls, he backtracked into the yard and began throwing small amounts here and there amongst the birds. 

This had become just one of the daily chores he’d volunteered for during his stay at the Burrow. Any excuse to dismiss himself from the group, or more specifically the presence of Ginny and her mournful eyes, was more than welcome. She always seemed the most emotional after dinner, when the family would split up into groups. Bill and Fleur would share an armchair by the fire and talk to Clarice, who almost always had Charlie’s arm wrapped around her or holding her hand. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would tidy up in the kitchen, listening to the wireless and occasionally coming together for a quick slow dance. 

Percy and Penelope came for dinners but usually couldn’t stay long; their newborn daughter, Emelia, couldn’t stay up past 7 o’clock. Harry did enjoy sitting with Ron and George, discussing the shop and George’s latest ideas and trial runs, but that seemed to be Ginny’s go-to group as well, so Harry had backed off. Harry, Ron, and George were all sharing a room, so better to talk to them later. 

On the day they’d arrived at the Burrow, the first thing Harry had done was find Ginny in her room to tell her a romantic relationship between them wasn’t possible. She’d laughed at first, not quite believing. Then she’d cried, and tried to kiss him. It was when he’d gently pushed her away that she’d yelled at him. Accusing him of playing with her feelings. Telling him he’d gotten her hopes up. Demanding a reason why. 

Perhaps it was the fact that he’d gotten zero sleep the night before. Maybe it was because Hermione’s face had been in his head that entire time. Or maybe he was just sick and tired of evading the truth, but he’d told Ginny about kissing Hermione, right there in the middle of her bedroom. She’d stopped her yelling then, eyes narrowing and face turning red. Next thing he knew he was standing there alone after she’d stormed out. Shortly after, Ginny used the floo to travel to Bill and Fleur’s cottage and stayed for a few days, until they all three came to the Burrow for the remainder of the holiday. 

For the hundredth time he considered packing his bags and making for the Leaky Cauldron, but he worried it would make things more awkward with the rest of the Weasleys. Ron had been upset with him at first, sticking up for Ginny and blaming him for breaking up with her and messing with her emotions a  second time. And he wasn’t wrong. But things with Ron had gone back to normal, and the rest of the Weasleys had never treated him any differently. 

Plus, Hermione would be paying a visit tomorrow. His stomach flipped at the thought, half elated and half terrified. The only thing he’d heard from her was the letter, addressed to both him and Ron, saying she would visit on Christmas Eve. The night he had kissed her had been a torturous one. He’d berated himself for doing it, afraid that he’d ruined their relationship. A life without Hermione, even as just a friend, wasn’t something he was interested in. But then a small voice in his head reminded him that she had kissed him back. It was in those moments that he rejoiced in his recklessness and dared to hope. 

Hermione had definitely seemed to enjoy the kiss, and he wondered if she would have backed away at all if Parvati hadn’t made an entrance. The feel of her in his arms dominated his every waking thought. And his dreams were filled with her too. Sometimes he dreamed of her screaming at him. And sometimes he dreamed of kissing every inch of her while she breathed his name and urged him on. 

His neck grew hot at that last recollection. He hurriedly dumped the last remaining chicken feed at the feet of a particularly plump hen and made toward the house. As he pushed the kitchen door shut he could faintly hear Mrs. Weasley saying goodnight. In the living room, Charlie and Clarice were the only ones left lingering. Harry waved and made for the stairs. 

His legs and mind were on autopilot, so when someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the landing it took all his willpower to not let out a surprised yelp. Ginny’s red hair flashed in front of his eyes, until they entered her room and she turned to close the door. He had expected her to look angry, but when she glanced at him and hugged her arms to herself she looked insecure and weary. 

“Er...hi,” Harry said uncertainly. 

“Hi,” she said, letting out a big breath. 

“Did you want to talk about something?” 

“Yes. I don’t know. I’ve had all these things planned in my head, but now that I’ve got you here I just...I guess I just want clarity.” 

He nodded his head, waiting for her to continue. 

“I know you said you kissed Hermione, but does that mean you have feelings for her? And if you do, then why did you ever go out with me?” 

“Ginny, I had feelings for you when we dated in sixth year. I don’t want you to doubt that was genuine.” 

Here she nodded, some relief evident in her eyes. 

“But I think my feelings for Hermione have roots that are really old and deep. And over time, those feelings just grew...until they seemed to overshadow everything else. I’m sure the horcrux hunt and spending so much time with her strengthened it. But it wasn’t just heightened emotions while we were in close proximity, because I feel even more strongly about her now.” 

“So...that makes the past several weeks even more confusing. Why did you take me to Hogsmeade?” 

Harry grimaced and rubbed his jaw. Here is where it got uncomfortable. “Well...it wasn’t supposed to be a date. Remember when you pulled me aside in the common room, after the match? I wanted to tell you then, but didn’t want a crowd. So I figured Hogsmeade would be better.” 

“Tell me - oh,” she said as her face went from confusion to comprehension. “You wanted to let me down gently.” 

Now that he’d started, he had to tell her the whole truth. So he plowed on.

“And then...Hermione went out with Terry and I was confused and angry and at a loss. Then you didn’t want to hear that we were done. So I just...went along with you.” 

He hung his head and clenched his eyes shut. “Merlin, I’m the world’s biggest prat. If you hate me forever, you’ll be justified. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Ginny.” 

But surprisingly, when he pulled his head up, her face seemed more at peace now. 

“I don’t hate you, Harry,” Ginny said sincerely. “It stings quite a bit, and it will take time to...get back to normal. But I know you’ll always be around. And Hermione is my friend.  You are my friend. So, I just need time.” 

They gave each other small smiles, and then Harry reached for the door. 

“Does Ron know, about any of this?” The question hit him right before he turned the knob. 

“No,” he said chucking. “He’s a little oblivious.” 

Ginny shrugged. “Typical. But you might want to say something to him before Hermione gets here.”

Harry gulped at the reminder. “I don’t know if there will be anything to tell him, honestly. She has a boyfriend...and I don’t think she’s too happy with me.” 

This time Ginny chuckled. “Oh Harry. You can be a little oblivious too.” 

<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>

Harry could hear George’s snores well before he opened the door to Ron’s room. Once inside, it was almost unbearable. George’s head was hanging half off the mattress with his mouth open wide. 

_ “ Silencio _ _,”_ Harry said lazily. 

Ron was sitting up in his bed, arms propped on his knees with a piece of parchment in his hands. He blinked at the sudden silence and looked up. 

“Don’t know why I didn’t think of that,” he said, glancing at Harry’s wand. 

“I’ve never seen you so distracted by a bit of  reading ,” Harry said with a grin. “What have you got there?” 

The moonlight filtering through the window showed Ron’s ears going red. “Just a letter...from Emma.” 

“Oh? So are you two official then?” Harry asked with intrigue. 

“Well, not  _ really _ official yet. But talking a lot. I had planned on asking her after the break.” 

“She seems like a cool person. Laid back and all that,” Harry offered. 

“Yeah, that’s one thing I really like about her. Not high maintenance. Sweet. Funny.” 

“Don’t start mooning, Weasley,” Harry joked after seeing the grin on Ron’s face. 

Ron rolled his eyes and laid back with his hands behind his head. 

“It’s just surreal, you know,” said Ron. “The war being over...life just seems brighter. I really feel like it’s my time to make things happen. With Emma, and graduation. I’m ready for it.” 

He sounded resolute.  _ Confident _ _._ That was something big for Ron, and it made Harry grin. 

“What about you?” Ron said as Harry laid down on his back, looking at the ceiling. 

“Huh?”

“What about you?” Ron repeated. “You still gunning for Auror?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly. “It’s the only career I ever considered seriously. Catching dark wizards sounded important and worthwhile. But...I don’t know. After spending so much time chasing Voldemort...I’m wondering if that career will take more from me than it gives.” 

“Wouldn’t blame you at all, mate. You deserve a quiet life from here on out.” 

Harry was quiet for a few minutes before going on. “You know, I heard that Puddlemere United is hosting tryouts this spring...”

Ron suddenly shot up in bed. “You’re joking! You’re going to try out?!” 

George gave what must have been a particularly loud snore and the silencing charm was broken. This time Ron threw a _“_ _Silencio_ _”_ toward his sleeping form, then sat waiting for Harry to answer, his mouth hanging open. 

“I’ve been considering it. I’m decent on a broom. Not sure if I’m good enough for a professional team, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“Oh, you’ll make it! How could you not?!”

Ron lay back down again, daydreaming out loud. “Imagine! Free tickets to all the games, and a top box if you could swing it for me.”

Harry snorted. “I don’t know if rookies get dibs on top box privileges.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron said while waving his arm above his head, excitement still in his voice. “We’ll have to train really hard this term. Get you prepared.” 

“I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“I’m sure the rest of the team would pitch in. Dean and Will and Ginny-“ 

Harry coughed and shifted in bed.

“-alright maybe not Ginny.” 

“Maybe not,” Harry agreed. 

A few minutes passed in silence. Minutes in which Harry hoped Ron would drop the topic. But not much luck.

“Look...what exactly happened with you and Ginny?” Ron asked uncertainly. 

And now that Ron was asking outright, it felt horrible to lie. 

“After the war, I never wanted to date Ginny again. She’s great, don’t get me wrong. Any bloke would be lucky to have her. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I just went along until I couldn’t anymore. Until I...er,  _ kissedHermionethatis. ”  _

The last part came out rushed and hushed, but Ron was able to pick it up nonetheless. His entire body shot up in bed for a second time.

“YOU WHAT?!” 

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned...more chapters coming!


End file.
